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MACMILLAN'S   STANDARD    LIBRARY 


THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS 


THE   MEN   OF  THE 
MOSS-HAGS 


BEING  A  HISTORY  OF  ADVENTURE   TAKEN  FROM 

THE  PAPERS  OF   WILLIAM  GORDON  OF 

EARLSTOUN  IN  GALLOWAY  AND 

TOLD    OVER  AGAIN  BY 


S.   R.    CROCKETT 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  September,  1895.     Reprinted 
October,  November,  1895;  July,  1896;  June,  1903;  March, 
1908. 


Norfoooto  $resa 

J.  8.  Cushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mas*.  U.S.A. 


/if//// 


To 

ANDREW  LANG 

Poet,  Romancer,  Scholar,  and  Friend 

of  the  goodly  fellowship  of  the  White  Rose 

7,  born  of  the  Hill-Folk 

dedicate  this  attempt  at  a  true  history  of 

some  who  fought  bravely  beneath 

the  Banner  of  Blue 


247960 


PREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE. 

I  desire  to  express  grateful  thanks  to  my  research- 
ers, Mr.  James  Nicholson  of  Kirkcudbright,  who  exam- 
ined on  my  behalf  all  the  local  records  bearing  upon  the 
period  and  upon  the  persons  treated  of  in  this  book  ;  and 
to  the  Reverend  John  Anderson  of  the  Edinburgh 
University  Library,  who  brought  to  light  from  among 
the  Earlstoun  Papers  and  from  the  long-lost  records  of 
the  United  Societies,  many  of  the  materials  which  I 
have  used  in  the  writing  of  this  story. 

I  owe  also  much  gratitude  to  the  Library  Committee 
of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  for  permission  to  use 
the  letters  which  are  printed  in  the  text,  and  for  their 
larger  permission  to  publish  at  some  future  time,  for 
purposes  more  strictly  historial,  a  selection  from  both 
the  sets  of  manuscripts  named  above. 

Most  of  all,  I  am  indebted  to  my  friend,  Mr.  John 
McMillan  of  Glenhead  in  Galloway,  who  has  not  only 
given  me  in  this,  as  in  former  works,  the  benefit  of 
his  unrivalled  local  knowledge,  but  has  travelled  with 
me  many  a  weary  foot  over  those  moors  and  moss- 


viii  PREFATORY  NOTE. 

hags,  where  the  wanderers  of  another  time  had  their 
abiding  places.  Let  him  accept  this  word  of  thanks. 
He  is  not  likely  to  forget  our  stay  together  in  the  wilds 
of  Cove  Macaterick.  Nor  I  our  journey  home. 

S.  R.    CROCKETT. 
Penicuik,  Aug.  J,  1895. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.    MY  GOSSIP,   MAISIE  MAY I 

II.    GAY  GARLAND   CARRIES    DOUBLE 8 

III.  GAY  GARLAND   COMES   HOME  SADDLE  EMPTY       .           .           •  1$ 

IV.  SANDY  GORDON   COMES  OVER  THE  HILL  ALL  ALONE            .  21 
V.    THE  CLASH   OF  WORDS 27 

VI.    THE   CLASH   OF  SWORDS 33 

VII.    THE  FIELD   OF  BOTHWELL    BRIG 38 

VIII.    THE  CURATE  OF  DALRY       . 46 

ix.  THROUGH  DEATH'S  DARK  VALE 53 

X.    THE  GRAVE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 6l 

XI.    THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  MARTYRS 67 

XII.    WE    RIDE  TO    EDINBURGH 73 

XIII.  WULLCAT  WAT   DARES   HEAVEN  AND   HELL           •           •           •  79 

XIV.  THE  THING  THAT  FELL  FROM  TRAITOR'S   GATE             .           .  86 
XV.    THE  BICKER  IN  THE   SNOW 92 

XVI.    THE  GREY  MOWDIEWORT 97 

XVII.    OVER  THE  MUIR  AMANG  THE  HEATHER     ....  IO2 

XVIII.    AULD  ANTON  OF  THE   DUCHRAE 107 

XIX.    THE  SWEET  SINGERS   OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK           .           .           .  113 

XX.    THE  HOME  OF  MY  LOVE 125 

XXI.    THE  GREAT  CONVENTICLE  BY  THE  DEE  WATER  .  .130 

XXII.    PEDEN   THE   PROPHET 137 

XXIII.  BIRSAY  THE    COBBLER 143 

XXIV.  THE   SANQUHAR   DECLARATION 154 

XXV.    THE  LAST   CHARGE  AT  AYRSMOSS l6l 

ix 


x  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  *AGH 

XXVI.    HIDING  WITH  THE  HEATHER-CAT  .  .  .  .  1 7! 

XXVII.    THE  WATER  OF  THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM  .  .  .  l8o 

XXVIII.    THE  WELL-HOUSE  OF  EARLSTOUN  .  .  .  .  1 86 

XXIX.    CUPBOARD   LOVE 1 90 

XXX.    THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN'S  HOMECOMING       .  .  .  19$ 

xxxi.  JEAN'S  WA'S 202 

XXXII.    PLAIN  WORDS  UPON   MEN 207 

XXXIII.  THE  GARDENER  OF  BALMAGHIE 212 

XXXIV.  THE  TESTING  OF  THE  TYKE 21 8 

XXXV.    KATE  OF  THE  DARK  BROWS 224 

XXXVI.    THE  BLACK  HORSE  COMES  TO  BALMAGHIE     .  .  .  230 

xxxvu.  A  CAVALIER'S  WOOING 237 

XXXVIII.    IN   COVE  MACATERICK 243 

XXXIX.    THE  BOWER  OF  THE  STAR 249 

XL.    MARDROCHAT  THE   SPY 2$6 

XLI.    THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  BLACK  CATS 263 

XLII.    THE  NICK  O'   THE  DEID  WIFE 270 

XLIII.    THE  VENGEANCE  OF  "  YON  "  .....  276 

XLIV.    A  DESIRABLE   GENERAL  MEETING 28l 

XLV.    THE  OUTFACING  OF  CLAVERS 288 

XLVI.    THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  CALDONS          .  .  .  .  .  296 

XLVII.    THE  GALLOWAY   FLAIL 304 

XL VIII.    THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  GUT  OF  THE  ENTERKIN  .  .311 

XLIX.    THE   DEATH    OF  MARDROCHAT 32O 

L.    THE  BREAKING   OF  THE  THIEVES'   HOLE          .  .  .  326 

LI.    THE  SANDS   OF  WIGTOWN 334 

LII.    THE  MADNESS   OF  THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN  .  .  34! 

LIII.    UNDER   SENTENCE  OF   DEATH 348 

LIV.    ROBBERY   ON   THE   KING'S   HIGHWAY         .  .  .  -351 

LV.    THE  RED   MAIDEN 360 

LVI.    THE   MAID   ON   THE   WHITE    HORSE  ....  365 

FOLLOWETH  THE  AUTHOR'S  CONCLUSION          .  .  .  369 


THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MY   GOSSIP,    MAISIE   MAY. 

IT  was  upon  the  fair  green  braes  that  look  over  the  Black 
Water  of  Dee  near  by  where  it  meets  the  clear  Ken,  that 
Maisie  May  and  I  played  many  a  morning  at  Wanderers 
and  King's  men.  I  mind  it  as  it  were  yesterday,  for  the 
dales  and  holms  were  pranked  out  with  white  hawthorn  and 
broad  gowans,  and  by  our  woodland  hiding-places  little 
frail  wildflowers  grew,  nodding  at  us  as  we  lay  and  held  our 
breath. 

Now  Maisie  Lennox  (for  that  was  her  proper  given  name) 
was  my  cousin,  and  had  been  gossip  of  mine  ever  since  we 
came  to  the  age  of  five  years;  Sandy,  my  elder  brother, 
making  nothing  of  me  because  I  was  so  much  younger  and 
he  ever  hot  upon  his  own  desires.  Neither,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  did  I  wear  great  love  upon  him  at  any  time. 
When  we  fell  out,  as  we  did  often,  he  would  pursue  after 
me  and  beat  me;  but  mostly  I  clodded  him  with  pebble 
stones,  whereat  I  had  the  advantage,  being  ever  straight 
of  eye  and  sure  of  aim.  Whereas  Sandy  was  gleyed*  and 
threw  stones  like  a  girl,  for  all  the  stoutness  of  his  arm. 

But  that  is  not  to  say  like  Maisie  Lennox,  who  was 

*  Could  not  see  straight. 
B  I 


2  THE   MEN   OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Anthony  Lennox's  daughter,  and  could  throw  stones  with 
any  one.  She  lived  at  the  Lesser  Duchrae  above  the  Black 
Water.  As  for  me  I  lived  at  Earlstoun  on  the  hillside  above 
the  Ken,  which  is  a  far  step  from  the  Duchrae.  But  our 
fathers  were  of  the  one  way  of  thinking,  and  being  cousins 
by  some  former  alliance  and  friends  of  an  ancient  kind- 
liness, it  so  happened,  as  I  say,  that  Maisie  Lennox  and  I 
played  much  together.  Also  my  mother  had  great  tender- 
ness of  heart  for  the  bit  lass  that  had  no  mother,  and  a 
father  as  often  on  the  moors  with  the  wildfowl,  as  at  home 
with  his  one  little  maid. 

For  the  times  were  very  evil.  How  evil  and  contrary 
they  were,  we  that  had  been  born  since  1660  and  knew  noth- 
ing else,  could  but  dimly  understand.  For  though  fear  and 
unrest  abode  in  our  homes  as  constant  indwellers,  with  the 
fear  of  the  troopers  and  plunderers,  yet  because  it  had 
always  been  so,  it  seemed  not  very  hard  to  us.  Indeed 
we  bairns  of  these  years  played  at  Covenanting,  as  it  had 
been  the  game  of  "Scots  and  English"  on  the  hillside, 
even  from  the  time  when  we  first  began  to  run  alone. 

Well  do  I  mind  that  day  when  I  pleaded  and  fleeched  on 
my  father  to  take  me  before  him  on  Gay  Garland,  as  he 
rode  to  the  Duchrae.  It  was  a  brisk  May  day  with  an  air 
vigorous  as  a  draught  of  wine,  yet  cool,  clear,  and  sweet  as 
spring  water  is  —  a  pearl  of  a  day,  such  as  hardly  seems  to 
come  in  these  sullen  later  years. 

So  I  cried  out  upon  my  father  to  take  me.  And  as 
his  manner  was,  he  told  me  to  inquire  of  my  mother. 
But  I  desired  rather  that  he  should  ask  for  me  himself. 
So  I  lingered  about  the  doors  till  he  should  ride  forth 
upon  his  great  black  horse,  that  he  might  catch  me 
up  beside  him  on  the  cantle  and  cry  in  at  the  door, 
"Mother,  I  am  taking  William, "  as  was  his  kindly  wont. 
Never  a  man  so  brave  and  true  and  simple  as  my  father. 


MY  GOSSIP,  MAISIE   MAY.  3 

While  I  bided  there,  Alexander  my  brother  seeing  me 
wait,  called  me  to  come  with  him  to  the  hill.  But  because 
my  heart  was  set  to  ride  to  the  Duchrae  with  my  father,  I 
had  no  desire  to  go  to  the  rabbit  hunting.  So  when  he  saw 
that  I  would  not  company  with  him,  he  mocked  me  and 
called  me  "Lassie-boy!"  Whereupon  I  smote  him  in- 
continent with  a  round  pebble  between  the  shoulder-blades, 
and  he  pursued  me  to  the  hallan  door  within  which  was  my 
mother,  looking  to  the  maids  and  the  ordering  of  the  house. 

From  thence  I  mocked  him,  but  under  my  breath,  for 
fear  that  for  ill-doing  my  mother  would  not  permit  me  to 
go  to  the  Duchrae. 

"  Stable-boy ! "  I  called  him,  for  he  loved  to  be  ever 
among  the  lowns  of  the  wisp  and  currying  comb,  and  as  my 
mother  said,  grew  like  them  even  in  manners.  "Faugh, 
keep  wide  from  me,  mixen-varlet !  " 

These  were  no  more  than  our  well-accustomed  greetings. 

"  Wait  till  I  catch  you,  little  snipe,  down  by  the  water- 
side !  "  Sandy  cried,  shaking  his  fist  at  me  from  the  barn-end. 

"And  that  will  be  a  good  day  for  your  skin,"  answered 
I,  "  for  I  shall  make  you  wash  your  face  thoroughly  —  ay, 
even  behind  your  ears." 

For  Sandy,  even  when  in  after  days  he  went  a-courting, 
was  noways  partial  to  having  many  comings  and  goings  with 
a  basin  of  cold  water. 

So  he  departed  unsatisfied,  because  that  in  words  I  had 
the  better  of  him. 

Then  came  my  father,  and  as  I  expected,  stooping  from 
the  saddle  he  swung  me  up  before  him,  supposing  that  I 
had  already  advised  my  mother.  But  indeed  I  had  not  said 
so,  and  happily  he  asked  me  nothing. 

"A  good  day  and  an  easy  mind,  sweetheart,"  he  cried  up 
the  stairs  to  my  mother,  "  I  ride  to  the  Duchrae  for  Confer- 
ence. William  goes  with  me  for  company." 


4  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

And  my  mother  came  down  the  steps  to  see  us  ride  off. 
For  my  father  and  she  were  like  lad  and  lass  after  their  years 
together,  though  not  so  as  to  make  a  show  before  strangers. 

"  Watch  warily  for  the  dragoons  as  you  come  to  the  nar- 
rows of  the  Loch,"  she  said,  "and  bide  not  at  Kenmuir. 
For  if  there  be  mounted  muskets  in  all  the  neighbourhood, 
it  is  at  the  Kenmuir  that  they  will  be  found." 

And  she  watched  us  out  of  sight  with  her  hand  to  her 
brows,  before  turning  inward  to  the  maids  —  a  bonny  woman 
in  these  years,  fair  as  a  blowing  rose,  was  my  mother.  Or 
at  least,  so  the  picture  rises  before  me  as  I  write. 

Thus  my  father,  William  Gordon  of  Earlstoun,  rode  away 
through  these  sweet  holms  and  winding  paths  south  toward 
the  Duchrae.  Nowhere  is  the  world  to  my  thinking  so 
gracious  as  between  the  green  woodlands  of  Earlstoun  and 
the  grey  Duchrae  Craigs.  For  the  pools  of  the  water  of 
Ken  slept,  now  black,  now  silver,  beneath  us.  They  were 
deep  set  about  with  the  feathers  of  the  birches,  and  had  the 
green  firs  standing  bravely  like  men-at-arms  on  every  rocky 
knoll.  Then  the  strath  opened  out  and  we  saw  Ken  flow 
silver-clear  between  the  greenest  and  floweriest  banks  in  the 
world.  The  Black  Craig  of  Dee  gloomed  on  our  right  side 
as  we  rode,  sulky  with  last  year's  heather.  And  the  great 
Kells  range  sank  behind  us,  ridge  behind  ridge  of  hills 
whose  very  names  make  a  storm  of  music  —  Millyea,  Mill- 
down,  Millfire,  Corscrine,  and  the  haunted  fastnesses  of  the 
Meaull  of  Garryhorn  in  the  head  end  of  Carsphairn,  Not 
that  my  father  saw  any  of  this,  for  he  minded  only  his 
riding  and  his  prayers;  but  even  then  I  was  ever  taken  up 
with  what  I  had  better  have  let  alone.  However,  I  may  be 
held  excused  if  the  memory  rises  unbidden  now,  before  the 
dimmer  eye  of  one  that  takes  a  cast  back  into  his  youth, 
telling  the  tale  as  best  he  may,  choosing  here  and  there  like 
a  dorty  child,  only  that  which  liketh  him  best. 


MY  GOSSIP,   MAISIE  MAY.  5 

In  a  little  we  clattered  through  the  well-thatched  roofs  of 
New  Galloway  and  set  Gay  Garland's  head  to  the  southward 
along  the  water-side,  where  the  levels  of  the  Loch  are  wont 
to  open  out  upon  you  blue  and  broad  and  bonny.  All  that 
go  that  way  know  the  place.  Gay  Garland  was  the  name 
of  my  father's  black  horse  that  many  a  time  and  oft  had 
carried  him  in  safety,  and  was  loved  like  another  child  by 
my  mother  and  all  of  us.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  in  the 
Praying  Society  of  which  he  was  a  grave  and  consistent 
member,  my  father  was  once  called  in  question  because  he 
gave  so  light  a  name  to  his  beast. 

"Ye  have'wives  of  your  own,"  was  all  the  answer  he  made 
them,  "  I  suppose  they  have  no  freits  and  fancies,  but  such 
as  you  are  ready  to  be  answerable  for  this  day." 

When  my  mother  heard  of  this  she  said,  "  Ay,  William, 
thy  excuse  was  but  old  and  lame,  even  that  of  our  first 
father  Adam —  'The  woman  thou  gavest  me  she  called  my 
horse  Gay  Garland.'" 

I  suppose  that  to-day  Ken  flashes  as  clear  and  the  heather 
blooms  as  bonny  on  the  Bennan  side.  But  not  for  me,  for 
I  have  laid  away  so  many  that  I  loved  in  the  howe  of  the 
Glen  since  then,  and  seen  so  many  places  of  this  Scotland 
red  with  a  crimson  the  bell  heather  never  made.  Ay  me  for 
the  times  that  were,  and  for  all  that  is  come  and  gone, 
whereof  it  shall  be  mine  to  tell ! 

But  we  came  at  long  and  last  to  the  Duchrae,  which  is  a 
sweet  bit  house,  sitting  on  a  south-looking  braeface,  though 
not  a  laird's  castle  like  the  tower  of  Earlstoun.  Maisie 
Lennox  met  us  at  the  loaning  foot,  whereat  I  begged  that 
my  father  would  put  me  down  so  that  I  might  run  bare- 
foot with  her.  And  I  think  my  father  was  in  nowise 
unwilling,  for  a  twelve-year-old  callant  on  the  saddle  before 
one  is  no  comfort,  though  Gay  Garland  bore  me  like  a 
feather. 


6  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

So  Maisie  Lennox  and  I  fell  eagerly  a-talking  together 
after  our  first  shy  chill  of  silence,  having  many  things  to  say. 
But  as  soon  as  ever  we  reached  the  Craigs  we  fell  to  our 
fantasy.  It  was  an  old  game  with  us,  like  the  sand  houses  we 
used  to  build  in  bairns'  play.  We  drew  lots,  long  stalk  and 
short  stalk,  which  of  us  should  be  the  Wanderer.  Maisie 
Lennox  won  the  lot  —  as  she  always  did,  for  I  had  no  good 
fortune  at  the  drawing  of  cuts.  So  she  went  to  hide  in  some 
bosky  bouroch  or  moss-hag,  while  I  bode  still  among  the 
hazels  at  the  woodside,  accoutring  myself  as  a  trooper  with 
sword  and  pistol  of  tree. 

Then  I  rode  forth  crying  loud  commands  and  sending  my 
soldiers  to  seek  out  all  the  hidie-holes  by  the  water-sides, 
and  under  all  the  tussocks  of  heather  on  the  benty  brows  of 
the  black  mosses. 

Soon  Maisie  Lennox  began  to  cry  after  the  manner  of 
the  hunted  hill- folk  —  peeping  like  the  nestlings  of  the  muir- 
birds,  craiking  like  the  bird  of  the  corn,  laughing  like  the 
jack-snipe  —  and  all  with  so  clear  a  note  and  such  brisk 
assurance  that  I  declare  she  had  imposed  upon  Tom  Dalyell 
himself. 

After  seeking  long  in  vain,  I  spied  the  fugitive  hiding 
behind  a  peat-casting  on  the  edge  of  the  moss,  and  im- 
mediately cried  on  the  men  to  shoot.  So  those  that  were 
men-at-arms  of  my  command  pursued  after  and  cracked 
muskets,  as  the  Wanderers  jooked  and  fled  before  us.  Yet 
cumbered  with  cavalry  as  I  was  on  the  soft  bog  land,  the 
light-foot  enemy  easily  escaped  me. 

Then  when  I  saw  well  that  catch  her  I  could  not,  I  sat 
me  down  on  a  heather  bush  and  cried  out  to  her  that  it  was  a 
silly  game  to  play,  and  that  we  should  begin  something  else. 
So  she  stopped  and  came  back  slowly  over  the  heather. 
What  I  liked  at  all  times  about  Maisie  Lennox  was  that  she 
never  taunted  back,  but  only  took  her  own  way  when  she 


MY  GOSSIP,  MAISIE  MAY.  7 

wanted  it  —  and  she  mostly  did  —  silently  and  as  if  there 
were  no  other  way  in  the  world.  For  in  all  things  she  had 
an  excellent  humour  of  silence,  which,  though  I  knew  it  not 
then,  is  rarer  and  worthier  than  diamonds.  Also  she  knew, 
what  it  seems  to  me  that  a  woman  but  rarely  knows,  when  it 
is  worth  while  making  a  stand  to  gain  her  will. 


CHAPTER   II. 

GAY   GARLAND   CARRIES   DOUBLE. 

So  after  that  we  played  yet  another  game,  hiding  together 
in  the  hags  and  crawling  from  bent  bush  to  rush  clump  with 
mighty  caution  and  discernment,  making  believe  that  the 
troopers  sought  us  both.  For  this  was  the  favourite  bairns' 
play  everywhere  in  the  West  and  South. 

Once  when  we  came  near  to  the  house  Gay  Garland  fol- 
lowed us,  having  been  turned  out  on  the  Duchrae  home 
park.  He  ran  to  me,  as  he  ever  did,  for  farings,  and  I  fed 
him  with  crumblings  out  of  my  jacket  pocket  —  "  moolings  " 
Maisie  Lennox  called  them  —  which  he  ate  out  of  my  hand, 
a  pretty  thing  to  see  in  so  noble  a  beast.  Then  he  followed 
us  about  in  our  hidings,  begging  and  sorning  upon  us  for  more. 
This  made  him  not  a  little  troublesome,  till  we  would  gladly 
have  sent  him  back.  But  Gay  Garland  was  a  beast  not  easily 
turned. 

After  a  while  we  came  to  the  little  wood  of  Mount  Pleas- 
ant, where  I  saw  some  red  rags  fluttering  on  a  bush.  I  was 
for  going  aside  to  see  what  they  might  be,  but  Maisie  Lennox 
cried  at  me  to  turn  back. 

"There  are  people  hereabouts  that  are  not  very  chancy. 
My  father  saw  the  Marshalls  go  by  this  morning  !" 

Often  and  often  I  had  heard  of  the  tribe  before,  and  they 
had  a  singular  name  for  their  ill-done  deeds.  Indeed  the 
whole  land  was  so  overrun  with  beggars  of  the  Strong  Hand, 
and  the  times  so  unsettled,  that  nothing  could  be  done  to 
put  a  stop  to  their  spoilings.  For  the  King  and  his  men 

8 


GAY  GARLAND  CARRIES  DOUBLE.        9 

were  too  busy  riding  down  poor  folk  that  carried  Bibles  and 
went  to  field-preachings,  to  pay  attention  to  such  as  merely 
invaded  homesteads  and  lifted  gear. 

As  we  set  breast  to  the  brae  and  came  to  the  top  of  the 
little  hill,  I  stumbled  over  something  white  and  soft  lying 
behind  a  heather  bush.  It  was  a  sheep  —  dead,  and  with 
much  of  it  rent  and  carried  away.  The  ground  about  was 
all  a-lapper  with  blood. 

"A  worrying  dog  has  done  this  !  "  I  said. 

But  Maisie  Lennox  came  up,  and  as  she  caught  sight 
of  the  carcase  her  face  fell.  She  shook  her  head  mighty 
seriously. 

"Two-footed  dogs,"  she  said.  "See  here  ! "  She  lifted 
a  piece  of  paper  on  which  a  bloody  knife  had  been  wiped. 
And  she  showed  me,  very  wisely,  how  the  best  parts  had  been 
cut  away  by  some  one  that  had  skill  in  dismemberment. 

"  'Tis  Jock  Marshall's  band,"  she  said ;  "  an  ill  lot,  but 
they  shall  not  get  off  with  this  !  " 

And  she  went  forward  eagerly,  keeping  on  the  broad  trail 
through  the  grass.  We  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  when 
we  came  upon  another  sheep  in  like  case,  and  then  by  the 
ford  of  the  Black  Water  we  found  yet  another.  I  asked 
Maisie  Lennox  if  we  should  not  go  home  and  lodge  in- 
formation. 

"  They'll  get  ower  far  away,"  was  all  she  said. 

"  But  you  are  not  feared  of  them?"  I  asked,  marvelling 
at  the  lassie.  For  even  our  Sandy  that  counted  himself  so 
bold,  and  could  lift  a  bullock  slung  in  a  sheet  with  his  teeth, 
would  have  thought  twice  before  following  up  Jock  Marshall 
and  his  band  for  the  sake  of  an  orra  sheep  or  two. 

But  Maisie  Lennox  only  turned  to  me  in  a  curious  way, 
in  which  there  seemed  mingled  something  of  contempt. 

"  Feared  !  "  she  said.  "  What  for  should  I  be  feared  ?  The 
sheep  are  my  faither's ;  but  gang  you  back  gin  ye  be  feared." 


10  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

So  for  very  shame  I  answered  that  I  was  feared  none  — 
which  was  a  great  lie,  for  I  had  given  a  hundred  pounds 
(Scots)  to  have  been  able  to  turn  back  with  some  credit. 
But  we  went  along  the  broad  trail  boldly  enough,  and  Gay 
Garland  trotted  loose-foot  after  us,  sometimes  stopping  to 
crop  the  herbs  by  the  way,  and  anon  coming  dancing  to 
find  us.  At  which  I  was  glad,  for  it  was  at  least  some  com- 
pany besides  the  lassie. 

Soon  we  came  to  a  link  of  the  path  by  the  water-side,  at 
a  place  that  is  called  the  Tinklers'  Loup,  where  these  sorners 
and  limmers  were  mostly  wont  to  congregate.  There  was 
blue  smoke  rising  behind  the  knowe,  and  Maisie  Lennox 
took  a  straight  path  over  the  heather  toward  it.  I  won- 
dered to  see  the  lass.  She  seemed  indeed  not  to  know 
fear. 

"  They  are  my  faither's  ain  sheep,"  she  said,  as  though 
that  were  sufficient  explanation. 

So  to  the  top  we  came,  and  looked  down.  There  was  a 
whole  camp  beneath  us.  Dirty  low  reeky  tans  were  set  here 
and  there  amid  a  swarm  of  bairns  and  dogs.  The  children 
were  running  naked  as  they  were  born,  and  the  dogs  turning 
themselves  into  hoops  to  bite  their  tails.  About  a  couple 
of  fires  with  pots  a-swing  over  them,  bubbling  and  steam- 
ing, little  clouds  of  wild-looking  folk  were  gathered.  Some 
had  bones  in  their  hands  which  they  thrust  into  the  fire  for 
a  minute  and  then  took  out  again  to  gnaw  at  the  burned 
portion.  Tattered  women  looked  within  the  pots.  Once  a 
man  threw  a  knife  at  a  boy,  which  struck  him  on  the  side. 
The  boy  cried  out  and  the  blood  ran  down,  but  none  took 
any  heed  to  his  complaint  or  of  the  circumstance. 

For  a  moment  Maisie  Lennox  stood  still  and  looked  at 
me.  Then  she  went  a  step  or  two  forward,  and  her  face  was 
white  and  angered.  I  saw  she  was  about  to  speak  to  them, 
yet  for  my  life  I  could  not  keep  her  from  it. 


GAY   GARLAND   CARRIES   DOUBLE.  11 

"  Sheep  stealers  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  vagabonds,  ye  shall  hang 
for  this  !  Not  for  naught  shall  ye  harry  an  honest  man's 
sheep.  I  ken  you,  Jock  Marshall  and  all  your  crew.  The 
Shirra  shall  hear  of  this  before  the  morrow's  morn  ! " 

The  encampment  stood  still  at  gaze  looking  up  at  us,  fixed 
like  a  show  painted  on  a  screen,  while  one  might  slowly  count 
a  score.  Then  Babel  brake  loose. 

With  a  wild  rush,  man,  woman,  child,  and  dog  poured 
towards  us.  Of  mere  instinct  I  came  up  abreast  of  Maisie 
Lennox.  Behind  me  came  Gay  Garland,  and  snuffed  over 
my  shoulder,  scenting  with  some  suspicion  the  tinklers'  gar- 
rons  *  feeding  in  the  hollow  below. 

We  stood  so  still  on  the  knowe-top  that,  I  think,  we  must 
have  feared  them  a  little.  We  were  by  a  gap  in  the  bushes, 
and  the  ill-doers,  seeing  no  more  of  us  thought,  no  doubt, 
that  there  must  be  more  behind,  or  two  bairns  had  never 
been  so  bold.  I  think,  too,  that  the  very  want  of  arms 
daunted  them,  for  they  drew  back  and  seemed  to  consult 
together  as  though  uncertain  what  to  do. 

Then  a  great  scant-bearded  unkempt  man  with  long  swing- 
ing arms,  whom  I  took  to  be  Jock  Marshall,  the  chief  tinkler 
and  captain  of  their  gang,  pointed  to  them  to  scatter  round 
the  little  knoll,  no  doubt  with  the  purpose  of  making  obser- 
vations and  cutting  us  off. 

"  Who  may  you  be  ?  "  he  cried,  looking  up  at  us. 

"  Right  well  you  know,"  Maisie  said,  very  loud  and  clear, 
speaking  out  like  a  minister  in  the  tent  at  a  field-preaching ; 
"  I  am  Anton  Lennox  of  the  Duchrae's  daughter,  whose  sheep 
ye  have  boiling  in  your  pots  —  and  that  after  being  well 
served  with  meal  at  the  door,  and  louting  low  for  thankful- 
ness. And  this  is  your  thanks,  ye  robbers-behind-backs, 
gallow's  thieves  of  Kelton  Hill." 

On  my  part  I  thought  it  was  not  good  judgment  so  to  anger 

*  Shaggy  ponies. 


12  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  wild  crew.  But  Maisie  was  not  to  be  spoken  to  at  such  a 
time ;  so  perforce  I  held  my  tongue. 

"  But  ye  shall  all  streek  a  tow  for  this,"  she  said ;  "  this 
day's  wark  shall  be  heard  tell  o*  yet !  " 

By  this  time  the  word  had  been  passed  round  the  hill  to 
Jock  the  tinkler  that  there  were  but  two  of  us,  and  we  un- 
armed. At  which  the  loon  became  at  once  very  bold. 

"  Have  at  them !  Blood  their  throats !  Bring  the 
basin  ! "  he  cried.  And  the  words  were  no  vain  things,  for 
that  was  their  well-accustomed  way  of  killing — to  let  their 
victim's  blood  run  into  a  basin,  so  that  there  might  be  no 
tell-tale  stains  upon  the  grass. 

So  from  all  sides  they  came  speeling  and  clambering  up 
the  hill,  loons  yelling,  dogs  barking,  till  I  thought  my  latest 
hour  was  come,  and  wished  I  had  learned  my  Catechism 
better  —  especially  the  proofs.  Gay  Garland  stood  by  with 
a  raised  look  upon  him,  lifting  his  feet  a  little,  as  though 
going  daintily  over  a  bridge  whose  strength  he  was  not  sure 
of,  and  drawing  all  the  while  the  wind  upward  through  his 
nostrils. 

Then  though  Maisie  had  been  very  bold,  I  can  lay  claim 
on  this  occasion  to  having  been  the  wiser,  for  I  caught  her 
by  the  arm,  taking  Gay  Garland's  mane  firmly  with  the  other 
hand  the  while,  lest  he  should  startle  and  flee. 

"  Up  with  you,"  I  cried,  bending  to  take  her  foot  in  my 
hand,  and  she  went  up  like  a  bird. 

In  a  moment  I  was  beside  her,  riding  bare-back,  with 
Maisie  clasping  my  waist,  as  indeed  we  had  often  ridden 
before  —  though  never  so  perilously,  nor  yet  with  such  a 
currish  retinue  yowling  at  our  tail. 

I  wore  no  weapon  upon  me  —  no,  not  so  much  as  a 
bodkin.  But  stuck  in  my  leather  belt  I  had  the  two  crooked 
sticks,  which  I  had  blackened  with  soot  for  pistols  at  our 
play  of  Troopers  and  Wanderers.  I  put  my  heels  into  Gay 


GAY  GARLAND  CARRIES  DOUBLE.        13 

Garland's  sides,  and  he  started  down-hill,  making  the  turf  fly 
from  his  hoofs  as  he  gathered  way  and  began  to  feel  his  legs 
under  him. 

The  gang  scattered  and  rounded  to  close  us  in,  but  when 
Gay  Garland  came  to  his  stride,  few  there  were  who  could 
overtake  him.  Only  Jock  Marshall  himself  was  in  time  to 
meet  us  face  to  face,  a  great  knife  in  either  hand.  And  I 
think  he  might  have  done  us  an  injury  too,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  nature  of  the  ground  where  we  met. 

It  was  just  at  the  spring  of  a  little  hill  and  the  good  horse 
was  gathering  himself  for  the  upstretch.  I  held  the  two 
'curved  sticks  at  the  tinkler's  head,  as  though  they  had  been 
pistols,  at  which  I  think  he  was  a  little  daunted.  Jock 
Marshall  stopped  in  his  rush,  uncertain  whether  to  leap 
aside;  and  in  that  very  moment,  Gay  Garland  spread  his 
fore-feet  for  the  spring,  throwing  up  his  head  as  if  tp  clear 
the  way.  One  of  his  iron-shod  heels  took  the  tinkler  chief 
fair  on  the  chest,  and  the  breast-bone  gave  inwards  with  a 
crunch  like  the  breaking  of  many  farles  of  cake-bread.  He 
fell  down  on  the  moss  like  one  dead,  and  Gay  Garland  went 
over  the  moor  with  the  whole  tribe  of  whooping  savages  after 
him,  spurning  their  fallen  chief  with  his  hoof  as  he  passed. 

Well  it  was  for  us  that  the  noble  horse  carried  us  with 
such  ease  and  that  his  feet  were  so  sure.  For  a  stumble  in  a 
rabbit  hole  and  our  throats  were  as  good  as  slit. 

But  by  the  blessing  of  Providence  and  also  by  my  good 
guiding  of  Gay  Garland's  mane,  we  passed  the  ford  of  the 
Black  Water  without  hurt.  Then  was  I  very  croose  at  the 
manner  of  our  coming  off,  and  minded  not  that  the  hardest 
blaff  of  downcome  is  ever  gotten  at  the  doorstep. 

We  were  passing  by  the  path  that  goes  linking  along  the 
water-side,  and  talking  to  one  another  very  cantily,  when 
without  warning  a  musket  barked  from  the  woodside,  and 
as  it  were  a  red-hot  gaud  of  iron  ran  into  my  thigh  behind 


14  THE   MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

my  knee.  The  world  swayed  round  me  and  the  green  trees 
ran  withershins  about.  I  had  fallen  among  the  horse's  feet, 
but  that  Maisie  Lennox  caught  me,  meeting  Gay  Garland's 
swerve  with  the  grip  of  her  knee  —  for  she  ever  rode  across 
and  acrop  like  a  King's  horseman,  till  it  was  time  for  her  to 
ride  side-saddle  and  grow  mim  and  prudent. 

Haply  just  by  the  turn  we  met  my  father  and  old  Anthony 
Lennox  coming  running  at  the  sound  of  the  shot.  But  as  for 
me  I  never  saw  or  heard  them,  for  they  ran  past,  hot  to  find 
the  man  who  had  fired  at  me.  While  as  for  me  I  came  up 
the  loaning  of  the  Duchrae  upon  Gay  Garland,  with  my 
head  leaning  back  upon  the  young  lassie's  shoulder  and  the 
red  blood  staining  her  white  skirt. 

And  this  was  the  beginning  of  my  lameness  and  sometime 
lack  of  vigour  —  the  beginning  also  of  my  life  friendship  with 
Maisie  Lennox,  who  was  to  me  from  that  day  as  my  brother 
and  my  comrade,  though  she  had  been  but  a  bairn's  play- 
mate aforetime. 


CHAPTER  III. 

GAY  GARLAND   COMES   HOME  SADDLE   EMPTY. 

THE  night  of  the  twenty-second  of  June,  1679,  shall  never 
be  forgotten  among  us  while  Earlstoun  House  stands.  It 
was  the  eve  of  the  day  whereon  befell  the  weary  leaguer  of 
Bothwell  when  the  enemy  beset  the  Brig,  and  the  good  Blue 
Banner  gat  fyled  and  reddened  with  other  dye-stuff  than  the 
brown  moss-water.  I  mind  it  well,  for  I  had  grown  to  be 
man-muckle  since  the  day  on  the  Tinklers'  Loup.  After  a 
day  of  heat  there  fell  a  night  like  pitch.  A  soughing  wind 
went  round  the  house  and  round  the  house,  whispering  and 
groping,  like  a  forlorn  ghost  trying  to  find  his  way  within. 

If  there  was  a  shut  eye  in  the  great  House  of  Earlstoun 
that  night,  it  was  neither  mine  nor  my  mother's.  We  lay 
and  thought  of  them  that  were  over  the  hill,  striving  for  the 
Other  King  and  the  good  cause.  And  our  thoughts  were 
prayers,  though  there  was  none  to  "  take  the  Book  "  in  Earl- 
stoun that  night,  for  I  was  never  gifted  that  way.  So  we 
bedded  without  sound  of  singing  or  voice  of  prayer,  though 
I  think  Jean  Hamilton  had  done  it  for  the  asking. 

I  lay  in  my  naked  bed  and  listened  all  the  night  with 
unshut  eye.  I  could  hear  in  my  mother's  room  the  boards 
creak  as  she  rose  every  quarter  hour  and  looked  out  into 
the  rayless  dark.  Maisie  Lennox  of  the  Duchrae,  old  Anton's 
daughter,  now  a  well  grown  lass,  lay  with  her.  And  Sandy's 
young  wife,  Jean  Hamilton,  with  her  sucking  bairn,  was  in  the 
little  angled  chamber  that  opens  off  the  turret  stair  near  by. 

It  befell  at  the  back  of  one,  or  mayhap  betwixt  that  and 

15 


16  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

two,  that  there  came  a  sound  at  the  nether  door  that 
affrighted  us  all. 

"  Rise,  William  !  Haste  ye,"  cried  my  mother  with  great 
eagerness  in  her  voice,  coming  to  my  door  in  the  dark. 
"  Your  father  is  at  the  nether  door,  new  lichted  doon  from 
off  Gay  Garland.  Rise  an'  let  him  in  !  " 

And  as  I  sat  up  on  my  elbow  and  hearkened,  I  heard  as 
clearly  as  now  I  hear  the  clock  strike,  the  knocking  of  my 
father's  riding-boots  on  the  step  of  the  outer  door.  For  it 
was  ever  his  wont,  when  he  came  that  way,  to  knap  his  toes 
on  the  edge  of  the  step,  that  the  room  floorings  might  not 
be  defiled  with  the  black  peat  soil  which  is  commonest  about 
the  Earlstoun.  I  have  heard  my  father  tell  it  a  thousand 
times  in  his  pleasantry,  how  it  was  when  my  mother  was  a 
bride  but  newly  come  home  and  notionate,  that  she  learned 
him  these  tricks.  For  otherwise  his  ways  were  not  dainty, 
but  rather  careless  —  and  it  might  be,  even  rough. 

So,  as  I  listened,  I  heard  very  clear  outside  the  house  the 
knocking  of  my  father's  feet,  and  the  little  hoast  he  always 
gave  before  he  tirled  at  the  pin  to  be  let  in,  when  he  rode 
home  late  from  Kirkcudbright.  Hearing  which  we  were 
greatly  rejoiced,  and  I  hasted  to  draw  on  my  knee-breeks, 
crying  "  Bide  a  wee,  faither,  an'  briskly  I'll  be  wi'  ye  to  let 
ye  in !  " 

For  I  was  a  little  lame,  halting  on  one  foot  ever  since  the 
affair  of  Tinkler  Marshall,  though  I  think  not  to  any  notice- 
able extent. 

My  mother  at  the  door  of  her  chamber  cried,  "  Haste  ye, 
William,  or  I  must  run  mysel'  ! " 

For  my  father  had  made  her  promise  that  she  would  not 
go  out  of  her  chamber  to  meet  him  at  the  return,  being 
easily  touched  in  her  breast  with  the  night  air. 

So  I  hasted  and  ran  down  as  I  was,  with  my  points  all 
untied,  and  set  wide  open  the  door. 


GAY  GARLAND  COMES   HOME  SADDLE   EMPTY.       17 

"  Faither ! "  I  cried  as  I  undid  the  bolt  and  pushed  the 
leaves  of  the  door  abroad,  "  Faither,  ye  are  welcome  hame  !  " 
And  I  could  hear  my  mother  listening  above,  for  his  foot  over 
the  threshold.  Yet  he  came  not  within,  which  was  a  wonder 
to  me.  So  I  went  out  upon  the  step  of  the  nether  door,  but 
my  father  was  not  there.  Only  the  same  strange  chill  wind 
went  round  the  house,  soughing  and  moaning  blindly  as  be- 
fore, and  a  smoor  of  white  fog  blew  like  muirburn  past 
the  door. 

Then  my  hair  rose  upon  my  head  and  the  skin  of  my 
brow  pricked,  because  I  knew  that  strange  portents  were 
abroad  that  night. 

"  What  for  does  your  faither  no  come  ben  the  hoose  to 
me  ?  "  cried  my  mother  impatiently  from  the  stair-head.  I 
could  hear  her  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands,  for  my 
ears  are  quick  at  taking  sounds. 

"  I  think  he  must  be  gone  to  the  stable  with  Gay  Garland, 
to  stall  him  beside  Philiphaugh,"  I  answered,  for  so  my 
father's  old  white  horse  was  named,  because  in  his  young 
days  my  father  had  been  at  that  place  on  the  day  when 
Montrose  and  his  Highlandmen  got  their  settling.  This  is 
what  I  said  to  my  mother,  but  indeed  my  thought  was  far 
other. 

I  lifted  a  loaded  pistol  that  lay  ever  in  the  aumrie  by  the 
door-cheek  and  went  off  in  the  direction  of  the  stable.  The 
door  was  shut,  but  I  undid  the  pin  and  went  within.  My 
father  was  not  there.  The  horses  were  moving  restlessly  and 
lifting  their  feet  uneasily  as  they  do  on  ice  or  other  kittle 
footing.  Then  of  a  truth  I  knew  there  was  something  more 
than  canny  abroad  about  Earlstoun  that  night,  and  that  we 
should  hear  ill  news  or  the  morning.  And  when  a  bundle 
of  reins  slipped  from  the  shelf  and  fell  on  my  shoulder  like 
a  man's  hand  clapping  on  me  unaware,  I  cried  out  like  a 
frighted  fowl  and  dropped  almost  to  the  ground.  Yet 


18  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

though  I  am  delicate  and  not  overly  well  grown  in  my  body, 
I  do  not  count  myself  a  coward ;  even  though  my  brother 
Sandy's  courage  be  not  mine.  "  Blind-eye,  hard-head  "  was 
ever  his  sort,  but  I  love  to  take  my  danger  open-eyed  and 
standing  up  —  and  as  little  of  it  as  possible. 

As  I  went  back  —  which  I  did  instantly,  leaving  the  stable 
door  swinging  open  —  I  heard  my  mother's  voice  again. 
She  was  calling  aloud  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  was  yearn- 
ing and  full  like  that  of  a  young  woman. 

"  William  !  "  she  called,  and  again  "  William  ! " 

Now  though  that  is  my  name  I  knew  full  well  that  it  was 
not  to  me,  her  son,  that  she  called.  For  that  is  the  voice 
a  woman  only  uses  to  him  who  has  been  her  man,  and  with 
her  has  drunk  of  the  fountain  of  the  joy  of  youth.  Once  on 
a  time  I  shot  an  eagle  on  the  Millyea,  and  his  mate  came 
and  called  him  even  thus,  with  a  voice  that  was  as  soft  as 
that  of  a  cushie  dove  crooning  in  the  tall  trees  in  the  early 
summer,  till  I  could  have  wept  for  sorrow  at  my  deed. 

Then  as  I  went  in,  I  came  upon  my  mother  a  step  or  two 
from  the  open  door,  groping  with  her  arms  wide  in  the  darkness. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "William,  my  William,  the  Lord  be 
thankit ! "  and  she  clasped  me  to  her  heart. 

But  in  a  moment  she  flung  me  from  her. 

"  Oh  !  it's  you,"  she  said  bitterly,  and  went  within  with- 
out another  word,  her  harshness  jangling  on  my  heart. 

Yet  I  understood,  for  my  mother  was  always  greatly  set 
on  my  father.  And  once  when  in  jest  we  teased  her  to  try 
her,  telling  her  the  story  of  the  pious  ^Eneas,  and  asking 
her  to  prophesy  to  us  which  one  of  us  she  would  lift,  if  so 
it  was  that  the  house  of  Earlstoun  were  in  a  lowe. 

"  Faith,"  said  my  mother,  "  I  wad  tak'  your  faither  on  my 
back,  gin  a'  the  lave  o'  ye  had  to  bide  and  burn  ! " 

So  it  was  ever  with  my  mother.  She  was  my  father's 
sweetheart  to  her  latest  hour. 


GAY  GARLAND   COMES   HOME   SADDLE  EMPTY.       19 

But  when  I  went  in  I  found  her  sitting,  sheet-white  and 
trembling  on  the  settle. 

"  What's  ta'en  ye,  mither?  "  I  said  to  her,  putting  a  shawl 
about  her. 

"O  my  man,  my  bonny  man,"  she  said,  "there's  nane  to 
steek  your  e'en  the  nicht !  An'  Mary  Gordon  maun  lie  her 
leesome  lane  for  evermair  ! " 

"  Hoot,  mither,"  I  said,  "  speak  not  so.  My  farther  will 
come  his  ways  hame  i'  the  mornin'  nae  doot,  wi'  a'  the  lads 
o'  the  Kenside  clatterin'  ahint  him.  Sandy  is  wi'  him, 
ye  ken." 

"Na,"  she  said  calmly  enough,  but  as  one  who  has 
other  informations,  "  Sandy  is  no  wi'  him.  Sandy  gaed 
through  the  battle  wi'  his  heid  doon  and  his  sword  rinnin' 
reed.  I  see  them  a'  broken — a'  the  pride  o'  the  West,  an' 
the  dragoons  are  riding  here  an'  there  amang  them,  an* 
haggin'  them  doon.  But  your  faither  I  canna  see —  I  canna 
see  my  man " 

"  Mither,"  I  said,  mostly,  I  think,  for  something  to  say, 
"  Mind  the  Guid  Cause  ! " 

She  flung  her  hands  abroad  with  a  fine  gesture  as  of 
scorn.  "  What  cause  is  guid  that  twines  a  woman  frae  her 
ain  man  —  an'  we  had  been  thegither  three-an'-thirty  year  ! " 

In  a  little  I  got  her  to  lie  down,  but  the  most  simple  may 
understand  how  much  more  sleep  there  was  in  Earlstoun 
that  night.  Yet  though  we  listened  with  all  our  ears,  we 
heard  no  other  sound  than  just  that  blind  and  unkindly 
wind  reestling  and  soughing  about  the  house,  groping  at  the 
doors  and  trying  the  lattices.  Not  a  footstep  went  across 
the  courtyard,  not  the  cry  of  a  bird  came  over  the  moors, 
till  behind  the  barren  ridges  of  the  east  the  morning  broke. 

Then  when  in  the  grey  and  growing  light  I  went  down  and 
again  opened  the  door,  lo  !  there  with  his  nose  against  the 
latchet  hasp  was  Gay  Garland,  my  father's  war-horse.  He 


20  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

stood  and  trembled  in  every  limb.  He  was  covered  with 
the  lair  of  the  moss-hags,  wherein  he  had  sunk  to  the  girths. 
But  on  his  saddle  leather,  towards  the  left  side,  there  was  a 
broad  splash  of  blood  which  had  run  down  to  the  stirrup 
iron ;  and  in  the  holster  on  that  side,  where  the  great  pistol 
ought  to  have  been,  a  thing  yet  more  fearsome  —  a  man's 
bloody  forefinger,  taken  off  above  the  second  joint  with  a 
clean  drawing  cut. 

My  mother  came  down  the  turret  stair,  fully  dressed,  and 
with  her  company  gown  upon  her.  Yet  when  she  saw  Gay 
Garland  standing  there  at  the  door  with  his  head  between 
his  knees,  she  did  not  seem  to  be  astonished  or  afraid,  as 
she  had  been  during  the  night.  She  came  near  to  him  and 
laid  a  hand  on  his  neck. 

"Puir  beast,"  she  said,  "ye  have  had  sore  travel.  Take 
him  to  the  stable  for  water  and  corn,  and  bid  Jock  o'  the 
Garpel  rise." 

The  dark  shades  of  the  night  were  flown  away,  and  my 
mother  now  spoke  quietly  and  firmly  as  was  her  wont. 
Much  in  times  bygone  had  we  spoken  about  sufferings  in 
the  House  of  Earlstoun,  and,  lo !  now  they  were  come  home 
to  our  own  door. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SANDY    GORDON    COMES    OVER    THE    HILL   ALL   ALONE. 

THE  House  of  Earlstoun  sits  bonny  above  the  water-side, 
and  there  are  few  fairer  waters  in  this  land  than  the  Ken 
water.  Also  it  looks  its  bonniest  in  the  early  morning 
when  the  dew  is  on  all  sides,  and  a  stillness  like  the  peace 
of  God  lies  on  the  place.  I  do  not  expect  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  very  much  to  surpass  Earlstoun  on  a  Sabbath  morn- 
ing in  June  when  the  bees  are  in  the  roses.  And,  indeed,  I 
shall  be  well  content  with  that. 

But  there  was  no  peace  in  Earlstoun  that  morning  —  no, 
nor  for  many  a  morning  to  come.  I  was  at  the  door  watch- 
ing for  their  coming,  before  ever  a  grouse  cock  stirred 
among  the  short  brown  heather  on  the  side  of  Ardoch  Hill. 
I  told  my  mother  over  and  over  that  without  doubt  Sandy 
was  bringing  father  home. 

"  Gay  Garland  was  aye  a  reesty  beast !  "  I  said.  "  Doubt- 
less he  started  when  my  faither  had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup, 
and  has  come  hame  by  himsel' !  " 

But  I  said  nothing  about  the  finger  in  the  holster. 

"  Anither  beast  micht,"  said  my  mother,  looking  wistfully 
from  the  little  window  on  the  stair,  from  which  she  did  not 
stir,  "but  never  Gay  Garland ! " 

And  right  well  I  knew  she  spake  the  truth.  Gay  Garland 
had  carried  my  father  over  long  to  reest  with  him  at  the 
hinderend. 

"Can  ye  no  see  them?  "  cried  my  mother  again,  from  the 
room  where  ordinarily  she  sat. 

21 


22  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Even  Jean  Hamilton,  who  had  been  but  three  years  a 
wife,  was  not  as  restless  that  fair  morning  of  midsummer  as 
my  mother,  for  she  had  her  babe  at  her  breast.  In  which 
she  was  the  happier,  because  when  he  cried,  at  least  she 
had  something  to  think  about. 

Three  weeks  before,  in  the  midst  of  the  sunny  days  of  that 
noble  June,  my  father,  William  Gordon  of  Airds  and  Earl- 
stoun,  and  my  elder  brother  Alexander  had  ridden  away  to 
fight  against  King  Charles.  It  took  a  long  arm  in  those 
days  to  strive  with  the  Stuarts.  And  as  I  saw  them  ride  over 
the  brae  with  thirty  Glenkens  blue  bonnets  at  their  tail,  I 
knew  that  I  was  looking  upon  the  beginning  of  the  ruin  of 
our  house.  Yet  I  went  and  hid  my  face  and  raged,  because 
I  was  not  permitted  to  ride  along  with  them,  nor  to  carry 
the  Banner  of  Blue  which  my  mother  the  Lady  of  Earl- 
stoun,  and  Jean  Hamilton,  Sandy's  wife,  had  broidered  for 
them  —  with  words  that  stirred  the  heart  lettered  fair  upon 
it  in  threads  of  gold,  and  an  Andrew's  cross  of  white  laid 
on  the  bonny  blue  of  its  folds. 

My  mother  would  have  added  an  open  Bible  on  the  divis- 
ion beneath,  but  my  father  forbade. 

"A  sword,  gin  ye  like,  but  no  Bible !  "  he  said. 

So  they  rode  away,  and  I,  that  was  called  William  Gor- 
don for  my  father,  clenched  hands  and  wept  because  that  I 
was  not  counted  worthy  to  ride  with  them.  But  I  was  never 
strong,  ever  since  Maisie  Lennox  and  I  rode  home  from  the 
Tinklers'  Loup;  and  my  mother  said  always  that  she  had 
more  trouble  at  the  rearing  of  me  than  with  all  her  cleckin'. 
By  which  she  meant,  as  one  might  say,  her  brood  of 
chickens. 

To  me  my  father  cried  out  as  he  rode  out  of  the  yard : 

"  Abide,  William,  and  look  to  your  mother  —  and  see  that 
the  beasts  get  their  fodder,  for  you  are  the  master  of  Earl- 
stoun  till  I  return." 


SANDY  COMES  OVER  THE   HILL.  23 

"An*  ye  can  help  Jean  to  sew  her  bairn-clouts !"  cried 
my  brother  Sandy,  whom  we  called  the  Bull,  in  that  great 
voice  of  his  which  could  cry  from  Ardoch  to  Lochinvar  over 
leagues  of  heather. 

And  I,  who  heard  him  with  the  water  standing  in  my 
eyes  because  they  were  going  out  in  their  war-gear  while  I 
had  to  bide  at  home, —  could  have  clouted  him  with  a  stone 
as  he  sat  his  horse,  smiling  and  shaving  the  back  of  his 
hand  with  his  Andrea  Ferrara  to  try  its  edge. 

O  well  ken  I  that  he  was  a  great  fighter  and  Covenant 
man,  and  did  ten  times  greater  things  than  I,  an  ill-grown 
crowl,  can  ever  lay  my  name  to.  But  nevertheless,  such 
was  the  hatred  I  felt  at  the  time  towards  him,  being  my 
brother  and  thus  flouting  me. 

But  with  us,  as  I  have  said,  there  abode  our  cousin  Maisie 
Lennox  from  the  Duchrae,  grown  now  into  a  douce  and 
sonsy  lass,  with  hair  that  was  like  spun  gold  when  the  sun 
shone  upon  it.  For  the  rest,  her  face  rather  wanted  colour, 
not  having  in  it  —  by  reason  of  her  anxiety  for  her  father, 
and  it  may  be  also  by  the  nature  of  her  complexion  —  so 
much  of  red  as  the  faces  of  Jean  Hamilton  and  other  of  our 
country  lasses.  But  because  she  was  my  comrade,  I  saw 
naught  awanting,  nor  thought  of  red  or  pale,  since  she  was 
indeed  Maisie  Lennox  and  my  friend  and  gossip  of  these 
many  years. 

Also  in  some  sort  she  had  become  a  companion  for  my 
mother,  for  she  had  a  sedate  and  dependable  way  with  her, 
solate  and  wise  beyond  her  years. 

"  She  is  not  like  a  flichty  young  body  aboot  a  hoose,"  said 
my  mother. 

But  in  this  I  differed,  yet  said  nothing.  For  no  one 
could  have  been  to  me  what  young  Maisie  of  the  Duchrae 
was. 

After  Sandy  and  my  father  had  ridden  away,  and  I  that 


24  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

was  left  to  keep  the  house,  went  about  with  a  hanging  head 
because  I  had  not  ridden  also,  Maisie  Lennox  grew  more 
than  ordinarily  kind.  Never  had  a  feckless  lad  like  me, 
such  a  friend  as  Maisie  of  the  Duchrae.  It  was  far 
beyond  that  love  which  the  maids  chatter  about,  and  run 
out  to  the  stackyard  in  the  gloaming  to  find  —  oft  to  their 
sorrow,  poor  silly  hempies. 

Yet  Maisie  May  and  I  greeted  in  the  morning  without 
observance,  but  rather  as  brothers  whom  night  has  not  parted. 
In  the  day  we  spoke  but  seldom,  save  to  ask  what  might  be 
needful,  as  the  day's  darg  and  duty  drifted  us  together. 
But  at  even,  standing  silent,  we  watched  the  light  fade  from 
the  hills  of  the  west  and  gather  behind  those  of  the  east. 
And  I  knew  that  without  speech  her  heart  was  trying  to 
comfort  mine,  because  I  had  not  been  judged  worthy  to 
ride  for  the  Covenants  with  her  father  and  mine,  and  in 
especial  because  Sandy  had  openly  flouted  me  before  her. 
This  was  very  precious  to  me  and  kept  up  my  manhood  in 
mine  own  eyes  —  a  service  far  above  rubies. 

Thus  they  rode  away  and  left  the  house  of  the  Earlstoun 
as  empty  and  unfriendly  as  a  barn  in  hay  harvest.  From 
that  day  forward  we  spent  as  much  time  looking  out  over 
the  moor  from  the  house,  as  we  did  at  our  appointed  tasks. 
I  have  already  told  of  the  happenings  of  the  night  of  the 
twenty-second  of  June,  and  of  my  mother's  strange  behav- 
iour —  which,  indeed,  was  very  far  from  her  wont.  For  she 
seldom  showed  her  heart  to  my  father,  but  rather  faulted 
him  and  kept  him  at  a  stick's  end,  especially  when  he  came 
heedlessly  into  her  clean-swept  rooms  with  his  great  moss- 
splashed  riding-boots. 

Of  this  time  I  have  one  thing  more  to  tell.  It  was 
between  the  hours  of  ten  and  eleven  of  the  day  following 
this  strange  night,  that  my  mother,  having  set  all  her  house 
maidens  to  their  tasks  with  her  ordinary  care  and  discre- 


SANDY  COMES  OVER  THE  HILL.  25 

tion,  took  down  the  bake-board  and  hung  the  girdle  above 
a  clear  red  fire  of  peat.  Sometimes  she  did  this  herself, 
especially  when  my  father  was  from  home.  For  she  was  a 
master  baker,  and  my  father  often  vowed  that  he  would  have 
her  made  the  deacon  of  the  trade  in  Dumfries,  where  he 
had  a  house.  He  was  indeed  mortally  fond  of  her  girdle- 
cakes,  and  had  wheaten  flour  ground  fine  at  a  distant  mill 
for  the  purpose  of  making  them. 

"Mary  Hope,"  he  used  to  say  to  her  in  his  daffing  way, 
"your  scones  are  better  than  your  father's  law.  I  wonder 
wha  learned  ye  to  bake  aboot  Craigieha' — tho',  I  grant, 
mony's  the  puir  man  the  faither  o'  ye  has  keepit  braw  and 
het  on  a  girdle,  while  he  stirred  him  aboot  wi'  his  tongue." 

This  he  said  because  my  mother  was  a  daughter  of  my 
Lord  Hope  of  Craigiehall,  who  had  been  President  of  the 
Court  of  Session  in  his  time,  and  a  very  notable  greatman 
in  the  State. 

So,  as  I  say,  this  day  she  set  to  the  baking  early,  and  it 
went  to  my  heart  when  I  saw  she  was  making  the  wheaten 
cakes  raised  with  sour  buttermilk  that  were  my  father's 
favourites. 

She  had  not  been  at  it  long  before  in  came  Jock  o'  the 
Garpel,  hot-foot  from  the  hill. 

"Maister  Alexander!"  he  cried,  panting  and  broken- 
winded  with  haste,  "  Maister  Alexander  is  comin'  ower  the 
Brae ! " 

There  was  silence  in  the  wide  kitchen  for  a  moment,  only 
the  sound  of  my  mother's  roller  being  heard,  "  dunt-dunt- 
ing  "  on  the  dough. 

"  Is  he  by  his  lane  ?  "  asked  my  mother  without  raising 
her  head  from  the  bake-board. 

"  Ay,"  said  Jock  o'  the  Garpel,  "  a'  by  his  lane.  No  a 
man  rides  ahint  him." 

And  again  there  was  silence  in  the  wide  house  of  Earlstoun. 


26  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

My  mother  went  to  the  girdle  to  turn  the  wheaten  cakes 
that  were  my  father's  favourites,  and  as  she  bent  over  the 
fire,  there  was  a  sound  as  if  rain-drops  were  falling  and  birs- 
ling  upon  the  hot  girdle.  But  it  was  only  the  water  running 
down  my  mother's  cheeks  for  the  love  of  her  youth,  because 
now  her  last  hope  was  fairly  gone. 

Then  in  the  middle  of  her  turning  she  drew  the  girdle  off 
the  fire,  not  hastily,  but  with  care  and  composedness. 

"I'll  bake  nae  mair,"  she  cried,  "Sandy  has  come  ower 
the  hill  his  lane  !  " 

And  I  caught  my  mother  in  my  arms. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CLASH  OF  WORDS. 

A  DOUBTFUL  dawn  had  grown  into  a  chosen  day  when 
I  saddled  in  Earlstoun  courtyard,  to  ride  past  the  house  of 
our  kinswoman  at  Lochinvar  on  a  sad  and  heavy  errand. 
Sandy  has  betaken  himself  to  his  great  oak  on  the  border  of 
the  policies,  where  with  his  skill  in  forest  craft  he  had  built 
himself  a  platform  among  the  solidest  masses  of  the  leaves. 
There  he  abode  during  the  day,  with  a  watch  set  on  the 
Tod  Hill  and  another  on  the  White  Hill  above  the  wood  of 
Barskeoch.  Only  at  the  even,  when  all  things  were  quiet, 
would  he  venture  to  slip  down  and  mix  with  us  about  the 
fire.  But  he  swung  himself  swiftly  back  again  to  his  tree 
by  a  rope,  if  any  of  the  dragoons  were  to  be  heard  of  in  the 
neighbourhood . 

During  all  this  time  it  comes  back  to  me  how  much  we 
grew  to  depend  on  Maisie  Lennox.  From  being  but  "  Anton 
Lennox's  dochter  "  she  came  to  be  "  Meysie,  lass  "  to  my 
mother,  and  indeed  almost  a  daughter  to  her.  Once,  going 
to  the  chamber-door  at  night  to  cry  ben  some  message  to 
my  mother,  I  was  started  and  afraid  to  hear  the  sound  of 
sobbing  within  —  as  of  one  crying  like  a  young  lass  or  a 
bairn,  exceedingly  painful  to  hear.  I  thought  that  it  had 
been  Maisie  speaking  of  her  sorrow,  and  my  mother  com- 
forting her.  But  when  I  listened,  though  indeed  that  was 
not  my  custom,  I  perceived  that  it  was  my  mother  who  grat 
and  refused  to  be  comforted. 

"  O  my  William  !  "  she  cried,  moaning  like  a  child  that 
27 


28  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

would  sob  itself  to  sleep,  "  I  ken,  O  I  ken,  I  shall  never  see 
him  mair.  He's  lyin'  cauld  and  still  at  the  dyke  back  that 
yince  my  airms  keepit  fast.  O  thae  weary  Covenants,  thae 
weary,  weary  Covenants  ! " 

"  Hush  thee,  my  dawtie,  say  not  so  !  "  I  heard  the  voice 
of  my  cousin  Maisie  —  I  could  not  help  but  hear  it,  "  The 
Lord  calls  us  to  do  little  for  Him  oursels,  for  we  are  feck- 
less women,  an'  what  can  we  do  ?  But  He  bids  us  gie  Him 
our  men-folk,  the  desire  o'  our  hearts.  Brithers  hae  I  gie'n, 
twa  and  three,  and  my  last  is  my  father  that  lies  noo  amang 
the  moss-hags,  as  ye  ken  !  " 

But  again  I  heard  my  mother's  voice  breaking  through  in 
a  querulous  anger. 

"What  ken  ye,  lassie?  Brithers  and  faither,  guids  and 
gear,  they  arena  muckle  to  loose.  Ye  never  lost  the  man  for 
wha's  sake  ye  left  faither  an'  mither,  only  just  to  follow  him 
through  the  warP  !  " 

And  in  the  darkness  I  could  hear  my  mother  wail,  and 
Maisie  the  young  lass  hushing  and  clapping  her.  So,  shamed 
and  shaken  at  heart,  I  stole  away  a-tiptoe  lest  any  should 
hear  me,  for  it  was  like  a  crime  to  listen  to  what  I  had 
heard.  But  I  am  forgetting  to  tell  of  our  riding  away. 

It  was  a  morning  so  buoyant  that  we  seemed  verily  up- 
borne by  the  flood  of  sunlight,  like  the  small  birds  that  glided 
and  sang  in  our  Earlstoun  woods.  Yet  I  had  small  time  to 
think  of  the  beauty  of  the  summer  tide,  when  our  father  lay 
unburied  at  a  dyke  back,  and  some  one  must  ride  and  lay 
him  reverently  in  the  earth. 

Sandy  could  not  go  —  that  was  plain.  He  was  now  head 
of  the  house  and  name.  Besides  the  pursuit  was  hot  upon 
him.  So  at  my  mother's  word,  I  took  a  pair  of  decent  serv- 
ing men  and  wended  my  way  over  the  hill.  And  as  I  went  my 
heart  was  sore  for  my  mother,  who  stood  at  the  door  to  see 
us  go.  She  had  supplied  with  her  own  hands  all  the  decent 


THE  CLASH  OF  WORDS.  29 

wrappings  wlierewith  to  bury  my  father.  Sandy  further 
judged  it  not  prudent  to  attempt  to  bring  him  home.  He 
had  gotten  a  staw  of  the  red  soldiers,  he  said,  and  wished 
for  that  time  to  see  no  more  of  them. 

But  I  that  had  seen  none  of  them,  was  hot  upon  bringing 
my  father  to  the  door  to  lie  among  his  kin. 

"  The  driving  is  like  to  be  brisk  enough  without  that ! " 
said  Sandy. 

And  my  mother  never  said  a  word,  for  now  Sandy  was 
the  laird,  and  the  head  of  the  house.  She  even  offered  to 
give  up  the  keys  to  Jean  Hamilton,  my  brother's  wife.  But 
for  all  her  peevishness  Jean  Hamilton  knew  her  place,  and 
put  aside  her  hand  kindly. 

"No,  mother,"  she  said.  "These  be  yours  so  long  as  it 
pleases  God  to  keep  you  in  the  House  of  Earlstoun." 

For  which  I  shall  ever  owe  Jean  Hamilton  a  good  word 
and  kindly  thought. 

The  names  of  the  two  men  that  went  with  me  were  Hugh 
Kerr  and  John  Meiklewood.  They  were  both  decent  men 
with  families  of  their  own,  and  had  been  excused  from  fol- 
lowing my  father  and  brother  on  that  account. 

Now  as  we  went  up  the  hill  a  sound  followed  us  that  made 
us  turn  and  listen.  It  was  a  sweet  and  charming  noise  of 
singing.  There,  at  the  door  of  Earlstoun  were  my  mother 
and  her  maidens,  gathered  to  bid  us  farewell  upon  our  sad 
journey.  It  made  a  solemn  melody  on  the  caller  morning 
air,  for  it  was  the  sound  of  the  burying  psalm,  and  they 
sang  it  sweetly.  So  up  the  Deuch  Water  we  rode,  the  little 
birds  making  a  choir  about  us,  and  young  tailless  thrushes 
of  the  year's  nesting  pulling  at  reluctant  worms  on  the  short 
dewy  knowes.  All  this  I  saw  and  more.  For  the  Lord  that 
made  me  weak  of  arm,  at  least,  did  not  stint  me  as  to  gleg- 
ness  of  eye. 

When  we  came  to  where  the  burn  wimples  down  from 


30  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Garryhorn,  we  found  a  picket  of  the  King's  dragoons  drawn 
across  the  road,  who  challenged  us  and  made  us  to  stand. 
Their  commander  was  one  Cornet  Inglis,  a  rough  and  roys- 
tering  blade.  They  were  in  hold  at  Garryhorn,  a  hill  farm- 
town  belonging  to  Grier  of  Lag,  whence  they  could  com- 
mand all  the  headend  of  the  Kells. 

"Where  away  so  briskly?"  the  Cornet  cried,  as  we  came 
riding  up  the  road.  "  Where  away,  Whigs,  without  the  leave 
of  the  King  and  Peter  Inglis?  " 

I  told  him  civilly  that  I  rode  to  Carsphairn  to  do  my 
needs. 

"  And  what  need  may  you  have  in  Carsphairn,  that  you 
cannot  fit  in  Saint  John's  Clachan  of  Dairy  as  well,  and  a 
deal  nearer  to  your  hand?  " 

I  told  him  that  I  went  to  bury  my  father. 

"Ay,"  he  said,  cocking  his  head  quickly  aslant  like  a 
questing  cat  that  listens  at  a  mouse-hole  ;  "  and  of  what  quick 
complaint  do  fathers  die  under  every  green  tree  on  the  road 
to  Both  well  ?  Who  might  the  father  of  you  be,  if  ye  happen 
to  be  so  wise  as  to  ken  ?  " 

"  My  father's  name  was  Gordon,"  I  said,  with  much  quiet- 
ness of  manner  —  for,  circumstanced  as  I  was,  I  could  none 
other. 

Cornet  Inglis  laughed  a  loud  vacant  laugh  when  I  told 
him  my  father's  name,  which  indeed  was  no  name  to  laugh 
at  when  he  that  owned  it  was  alive.  Neither  Peter  Inglis 
not  yet  his  uncle  had  laughed  in  the  face  of  William  Gordon 
of  Earlstoun  —  ay,  though  they  had  been  riding  forth  with  a 
troop  behind  them. 

"  Gordon,"  quoth  he,  "  Gordon —  a  man  canna  spit  in  the 
Glenkens  without  sploiting  on  a  Gordon  —  and  every  Jack 
o'  them  a  cantin'  rebel !  " 

"  You  lie,  Peter  Inglis  —  lie  in  your  throat !  "  cried  a  voice 
from  the  hillside,  quick  as  an  echo.  Inglis,  who  had  been 


THE  CLASH   OF  WORDS.  31 

hectoring  it  hand  on  hip,  turned  at  the  word.  His  black 
brows  drew  together  and  his  hand  fell  slowly  till  it  rested  on 
his  sword-hilt.  He  who  spoke  so  boldly  was  a  lad  of  twenty, 
straight  as  a  lance  shaft  is  straight,  who  rode  slowly  down 
from  the  Garryhorn  to  join  us  on  the  main  road  where  the 
picket  was  posted. 

It  was  my  cousin  and  kinsman,  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar 
—  a  spark  of  mettle,  who  in  the  hour  of  choosing  paths  had 
stood  for  the  King  and  the  mother  of  him  (who  was  a  Doug- 
las of  Morton)  against  the  sterner  way  of  his  father  and  fore- 
bears. 

The  Wild-cat  of  Lochinvar  they  called  him,  and  the  name 
fitted  him  like  his  laced  coat. 

For  Wullcat  Wat  of  Lochinvar  was  the  gayest,  brightest, 
most  reckless  blade  in  the  world.  And  even  in  days  before 
his  father's  capture  and  execution,  he  had  divided  the  house 
with  him.  He  had  rallied  half  the  retainers,  and  ridden  to 
Morton  Castle  to  back  his  uncle  there  when  the  King's 
interest  was  at  its  slackest,  and  when  it  looked  as  if  the  days 
of  little  Davie  Crookback  were  coming  back  again.  At  Wat 
Gordon's  back  there  rode  always  his  man-at-arms,  John 
Scarlet,  who  had  been  a  soldier  in  France  and  also  in  Branden- 
burg —  and  who  was  said  to  be  the  greatest  master  of  fence 
and  cunning  man  of  weapons  in  all  broad  Scotland.  But  it 
was  rumoured  that  now  John  Scarlet  had  so  instructed  his 
young  master  that  with  any  weapon,  save  perhaps  the  small 
sword  the  young  cock  could  craw  crouser  than  the  old  upon 
the  same  middenstead. 

"  I  said  you  lied,  Peter  Inglis,"  cried  Wullcat  Wat,  turn- 
ing back  the  lace  ruffle  of  his  silken  cuff,  for  he  was  as  gay 
and  glancing  in  his  apparel  as  a  crested  jay-piet.  "  Are 
ye  deaf  as  well  as  man- sworn?  " 

Inglis  stood  a  moment  silent ;  then  he  understood  who  his 
enemy  was.  For  indeed  it  was  no  Maypole  dance  to  quarrel 


32  THE   MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

with  Wat  of  Lochinvar  with  John  Scarlet  swaggering  behind 
him. 

"  Did  you  not  hear?  I  said  you  lied,  man  —  lied  in  your 
throat.  Have  you  aught  to  say  to  it,  or  shall  I  tell  it  to 
Clavers  at  the  table  to-night  that  ye  have  within  you  no 
throat  and  no  man's  heart,  but  only  the  gullet  of  a  guzzling 
trencherman?" 

"  I  said  that  the  Gordons  of  the  Glenkens  were  traitors. 
'Tis  a  kenned  thing,"  answered  Inglis,  at  last  mustering  up 
his  resolution,  "  but  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you,  Wat  Gor- 
don, for  I  know  your  favour  up  at  Garryhorn  —  and  its 
cause." 

"  Cause "  said  Wullcat  Wat,  bending  a  little  forward 

in  his  saddle  and  striping  one  long  gauntlet  glove  lightly 
through  the  palm  of  the  other  hand,  "  cause  —  what  knows 
Peter  Inglis  of  causes?  This  youth  is  my  cousin  of  Earl- 
stoun.  I  answer  for  him  with  my  life.  Let  him  pass.  That 
is  enough  of  cause  for  an  Inglis  to  know,  when  he  chances 
to  meet  men  of  an  honester  name." 

"  He  is  a  rebel  and  a  traitor  !  "  cried  Inglis,  "  and  I  shall 
hold  him  till  I  get  better  authority  than  yours  for  letting  him 
go.  Hear  ye  that,  Wat  of  Lochinvar  !  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CLASH   OF  SWORDS. 

THE  two  sat  fronting  one  another  on  their  horses.  Inglis 
was  the  older  and  more  firmly  set  man.  But  Wat  of  Loch- 
invar  was  slender  and  lithe  as  a  bow  that  has  not  been  often 
bent  and  quivers  to  the  straight.  It  was  a  curious  sight  to 
see  them  passaging  with  little  airs  and  graces,  like  fighting 
cocks  matched  in  a  pit. 

The  soldiers  stood  indifferently  around.  A  pair  of  dra- 
goons patrolled,  turning  and  crossing  as  if  on  parade,  within 
earshot  of  the  quarrel  of  their  officers.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  had  ever  seen  what  discipline  meant.  And  in  a  moment 
I  learned  why  they  had  broken  us  at  Bothwell  and  Rullion 
Green.  For  I  have  heard  my  brother  Sandy  say  that  at  any 
time  in  the  Covenanting  host,  had  three  drawn  together  and 
spoken  like  men  that  are  hot  in  questioning,  the  whole  army 
would  have  run  from  their  posts  to  hear  and  to  take  part  in 
the  controversy.  But  all  the  while  these  dragoons  kept  their 
noses  pointing  in  the  straight  of  their  necks,  and  fronted  and 
wheeled  like  machines.  It  was,  in  fact,  none  of  their  busi- 
ness if  their  officers  cut  each  others'  throats.  But  they  knew 
that  one  John  Graham  would  assuredly  make  it  his  business 
if  they  omitted  their  military  service. 

"  Cornet  Inglis,"  said  Lochinvar,  doffing  lightly  his  feath- 
ered hat  that  had  the  King's  colours  in  it,  "  hearken  ye  well. 
This  is  my  cousin  Will  of  Earlstoun,  who  took  no  part  with 
his  kin  in  the  late  rebellion,  as  I  took  no  part  with  mine, 
but  instead  abode  at  home  in  peace.  I  require  you  to  let 
D  33 


34  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

him  go  upon  his  errand.  I  myself  will  be  answerable  for 
him  to  Colonel  Graham  of  Claverhouse.  After  that  we  can 
arrange  our  little  matter  as  to  favour  and  its  causes." 

There  was  a  keen  leaping  light  in  my  cousin  Wat's  blue 
eyes,  the  light  that  I  afterwards  grew  to  know  as  the  delight 
of  battle.  He  was  waxing  coldly  angry.  For  me  I  grow 
dourly  silent  as  I  become  angered.  My  brother  Sandy  grows 
red  and  hot,  but  Wullcat  Wat  was  of  those  more  dangerous 
men  to  whom  deadly  anger,  when  it  comes,  at  once  quickens 
the  pulses  and  stills  the  nerves. 

"  Think  not  I  am  afraid  of  a  traitor's  son,  or  of  any  of 
the  name  of  Lochinvar,"  quoth  Inglis,  who  was  indeed  no 
coward  when  once  he  had  taken  up  a  quarrel ;  "  after  all, 
ye  are  all  no  better  than  a  bow-o'-meal- Gordon  ! " 

It  was  the  gage  of  battle.  After  that  there  was  no  more 
to  be  said.  To  call  a  man  of  our  name  "  a-bow-o'-meal- 
Gordon  "  is  equal  to  saying  that  he  has  no  right  to  the  name 
he  bears.  For  it  is  said  that  a  certain  Lochinvar,  wanting 
retainers  to  ride  at  his  back,  offered  a  snug  holding  and  so 
many  bolls  of  meal  yearly  to  any  lusty  youth  who  would 
marry  on  his  land,  take  his  name,  and  set  himself  like  a 
worthy  sworder  to  breed  well-boned  loons  to  carry  in  their 
turns  the  leathern  jack. 

At  the  taunt,  swift  as  flame  Wat  of  Lochinvar  rode  nearer 
to  his  enemy  on  his  quick-turning  well-mouthed  horse,  and 
drawing  the  leather  gauntlet  through  his  fingers  till  the 
fingers  were  striped  narrow  like  whip  lashes,  he  struck 
Inglis  with  it  upon  the  cheek. 

"  My  father's  head,"  he  cried,  "  may  be  on  the  Netherbow. 
He  had  his  way  of  thinking  and  died  for  it.  I  have  mine 
and  may  die  for  it  in  my  time.  But  in  the  meantime  Loch- 
invar's  son  is  not  to  be  flouted  by  the  son  of  a  man  who 
cried  with  all  parties  and  hunted  with  none." 

Two  swords  flashed  into  the  air  together,  the  relieved 


THE  CLASH   OF  SWORDS.  35 

scabbards  jingling  back  against  the  horses'  sides.  The 
basket  hilt  of  that  of  Cornet  Inglis  had  the  cavalry  tassel 
swinging  to  it,  while  the  crossbar  and  simple  Italian  guard 
of  Wat  Gordon's  lighter  weapon  seemed  as  if  it  must 
instantly  be  beaten  down  by  the  starker  weapon  of  the 
dragoon.  But  as  they  wheeled  their  horses  on  guard  with 
a  touch  of  the  bridle  hand,  I  saw  John  Scarlet,  Wat's  master 
of  fence,  flash  a  look  at  his  scholar's  guard-sword.  Wat 
used  an  old-fashioned  shearing-sword,  an  ancient  blade 
which,  with  various  hilt  devices,  many  a  Gordon  of 
Lochinvar  had  carried  when  he  ruffled  it  in  court  and  hall. 
I  caught  John  Scarlet's  look  of  satisfaction,  and  judged  that 
he  anticipated  no  danger  to  one  whom  he  had  trained,  from 
a  fighter  at  haphazard  like  Cornet  Peter  Inglis.  But  yet 
the  dragoon  was  no  tyro,  for  he  had  proved  himself  in  many 
a  hard-stricken  fray. 

So  without  a  word  they  fell  to  it.  And,  by  my  faith,  it 
made  a  strange  picture  on  the  grassy  track  which  wound 
itself  through  these  wilds,  to  see  the  glossy  black  of  Wat 
Gordon's  charger  front  the  heavier  weight  of  the  King's 
man's  grey. 

At  the  first  crossing  of  the  swords,  the  style  of  the  two 
men  was  made  evident.  That  of  Inglis  was  the  simpler. 
He  fought  most  like  a  practical  soldier,  with  the  single  pur- 
pose of  making  his  adversary  feel  the  edge  of  his  weapon ; 
while  Wat,  lighter  and  lither,  had  all  the  parade  and  pomp 
of  the  schools. 

Lochinvar  depended  on  a  low  tierce  guard  with  a  sloping 
point,  and  reined  his  horse  near,  that  his  enemy  might  be 
prevented  from  closing  with  him  on  his  left,  or  side  of  disad- 
vantage. The  dragoon  used  the  simpler  hanging  guard  and 
pressed  upon  his  adversary  with  plain  dour  weight  of  steel. 

At  the  first  clash  of  the  iron  the  horses  heaved  their 
heads,  and  down  from  the  hillside  above  there  came  a  faint 


36  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

crying  as  of  shepherds  to  their  flocks.  But  the  combatants 
were  too  intent  to  take  notice.  John  Scarlet  reined  his 
horse  at  the  side,  his  head  a  little  low  set  between  his 
shoulders,  and  his  eyes  following  every  thrust  and  parry 
with  a  glance  like  a  rapier. 

For  the  first  five  minutes  Inglis  tried  all  his  powers  of 
battering  upon  Wat  Gordon's  lighter  guard,  his  heavy  cav- 
alry sword  beating  and  disengaging  with  the  fellest  intent. 
He  fought  with  a  still  and  lip-biting  fury.  He  struck  to 
kill,  hammering  with  strong  threshing  blows;  Wat,  more 
like  a  duellist  of  the  schools  —  rather,  as  it  seemed,  to  show 
his  mastery  of  the  weapon.  But  nevertheless  the  thin  sup- 
ple blade  of  the  young  laird  followed  every  beat  and  lunge 
of  the  heavier  iron  with  speed  and  certainty.  Each  moment 
it  seemed  as  if  Wat  must  certainly  be  cut  down.  But  his 
black  obeyed  the  rein  at  the  moment  of  danger,  and  his 
sword  twisted  round  that  of  his  adversary  as  an  adder  winds 
itself  about  a  stick. 

More  and  more  angry  grew  the  dragoon,  and  a  grim 
smile  sat  intent  and  watchful  on  the  face  of  John  Scarlet. 
But  he  spoke  never  a  word,  and  the  red  sentries  paced 
placidly  to  and  fro  along  the  burnside  of  Garryhorn.  More 
and  more  wildly  Cornet  Inglis  struck,  urging  his  horse 
forward  to  force  Lochinvar's  black  down  the  hill.  But 
featly  and  gracefully  the  lad  wheeled  and  turned,  keeping 
ever  his  hand  in  tierce  and  his  blade  across  his  body,  slipping 
and  parrying  with  the  utmost  calm  and  ease. 

"  Click,  click ! "  came  the  noise  of  the  clashing  sword- 
blades,  flickering  so  swiftly  that  the  eye  could  not  follow 
them.  In  time  Lochinvar  found  out  his  opponent's  dis- 
advantage, which  was  in  the  slower  movement  of  his  horse, 
but  to  this  Inglis  responded  like  a  man.  He  kept  his  beast 
turning  about  within  his  own  length,  so  that  come  where  he 
would  Wat  had  no  advantage.  Yet  gradually  and  surely  the 


THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  37 

dragoon  was  being  tired  out.  From  attacking  he  fell  to 
guarding,  and  at  last  even  his  parry  grew  lifeless  and  feeble. 
Wat,  on  the  other  hand,  kept  his  enemy's  blade  constantly 
engaged.  He  struck  with  certainty  and  parried  with  a  light 
hammering  movement  that  was  pretty  to  watch,  even  to  one 
who  had  no  skill  of  the  weapon. 

At  last,  wearied  with  continual  check,  Inglis  leaned  too 
far  over  his  horse's  head  in  a  fierce  thrust.  The  beast 
slipped  with  the  sudden  weight,  and  the  dragoon's  steel  cap 
went  nearly  to  his  charger's  neck. 

In  a  moment,  seeing  his  disadvantage,  Inglis  attempted 
to  recover ;  but  Wat's  lighter  weapon  slid  under  his  guard 
as  he  threw  his  sword  hand  involuntarily  up.  It  pierced 
his  shoulder,  and  a  darker  red  followed  the  steel  upon  his 
horseman's  coat,  as  Wat  withdrew  his  blade  to  be  ready 
for  the  return.  But  of  this  there  was  no  need,  for  Inglis 
instantly  dropped  his  hand  to  his  side  and  another  sword 
suddenly  struck  up  that  of  Wat  Gordon,  as  the  dragoon's 
heavy  weapon  clattered  upon  the  stones. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   FIELD   OF   BOTHWELL   BRIG. 

"  GENTLEMEN,"  cried  a  stern,-  calm  voice,  "  gentlemen, 
is  it  thus  that  ye  amuse  yourselves  when  ye  are  upon  the 
King's  service?" 

I  turned  about,  and  lo  !  it  was  the  voice  of  John  Graham 
of  Claverhouse,  high-pitched  to  the  carrying  note  of  com- 
mand —  of  the  man  whom  all  the  South  and  West  knew  then 
as  the  great  persecutor,  and  all  the  North  afterwards  as  the 
great  captain  who  stood  for  his  master  when  all  the  others  for- 
sook him  and  fled.  I  admit  that  my  heart  beat  suddenly  feeble 
before  him,  and  as  for  my  lads  who  were  with  me,  I  think  they 
gave  themselves  up  for  dead  men.  Though  slender  and  not 
tall,  Clavers  nevertheless  looked  noble  upon  the  black  horse 
which  had  carried  him  at  a  gallop  down  the  burnside  from 
Garryhorn.  His  eyes  were  full  of  fire,  his  bearing  of  gal- 
lantry. Yet  methought  there  was  something  relentless  about 
the  man  —  something  that  friend  might  one  day  feel  the  bite 
of  as  well  as  foe.  For  this  was  the  man  who,  at  his  master's 
word,  was  now  driving  Scotland  before  him  as  sheep  are 
driven  into  buchts  on  the  hillside.  But  Scotland  did  not 
easily  take  to  praying  according  to  Act  of  Parliament,  and 
I  minded  the  witty  old  gentlewoman's  word  to  Claverhouse 
himself,  "  Knox  didna  win  his  will  without  clavers,  an' 
aiblins  Clavers  winna  get  his  withoot  knocks."  It  was  a 
witty  saying  and  a  true,  and  many  a  day  I  lay  in  the  moss- 
hags  and  wished  that  I  had  said  it. 

Yet  I  think  we  of  the  Ancient  Province  never  felt  so 
38 


THE  FIELD   OF  BOTH  WELL  BRIG.  39 

keenly  the  bitterness  of  his  oppression,  though  mostly  it  was 
without  bowels  of  mercy,  as  we  did  the  riding  and  driving 
of  Robert  Grier  of  Lag,  of  Douglas  of  Morton,  of  Queens- 
berry  and  Drumlanrig,  that  were  of  ourselves  —  familiar 
at  our  tables,  and  ofttimes  near  kinsmen  as  well. 

What  John  Graham  did  in  the  way  of  cess  and  exaction, 
and  even  of  shooting  and  taking,  was  in  some  measure  what 
we  had  taken  our  count  and  reckoning  with.  But  that  men 
who  knew  our  outgoings  and  incomings,  our  strengths  and 
fastnesses,  who  had  companied  with  us  at  kirk  and  market, 
should  harry  us  like  thieves,  made  our  hearts  wondrously  hot 
and  angry  within  us.  For  years  I  never  prayed  without  making 
it  a  petition  that  I  might  get  a  fair  chance  at  Robert  Grier — 
if  it  were  the  Lord's  will.  And  indeed  it  is  not  yet  too  late. 

But  it  was  Claverhouse  that  Had  come  across  us  now. 

"  You  would  kill  more  King's  men  !  "  he  cried  to  Wat 
Gordon ;  "  you  that  have  come  hither  to  do  your  best  to 
undo  the  treason  of  your  forebears.  My  lad,  that  is  the 
way  to  get  your  head  set  on  the  Netherbow  beside  your 
father's.  Are  there  no  man-sworn  Whigs  in  the  West  that 
true  men  must  fall  to  hacking  one  another?  " 

He  turned  upon  Inglis  as  fiercely : 

"  Cornet,  are  you  upon  duty  ?  By  what  right  do  you  fall 
to  brawling  with  an  ally  of  the  country?  Have  we  overly 
many  of  them  in  this  accursed  land,  where  there  are  more 
elephants  and  crocodiles  in  Whig-ridden  Galloway  than  true 
men  on  whom  the  King  may  rely  ?  " 

But  Inglis  said  never  a  word,  being  pale  from  the  draining 
of  his  wound.  I  looked  for  him  to  denounce  me  as  a  rebel 
and  a  spy ;  but  he  was  wholly  silent,  for  the  man  after  all 
was  a  man. 

"  How  began  ye  this  brawling?"  quoth  Claverhouse,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other  of  them,  minding  me  no  more 
than  I  had  been  a  tripping  hedge-sparrow. 


40  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"We  had  a  difference,  and  cast  up  our  fathers  to  one 
another,"  at  last  said  Inglis,  half  sullenly. 

"  It  were  best  to  let  fathers  a-be  when  you  ride  on  his 
Majesty's  outpost  duty,  Cornet  Inglis.  But  you  are  wounded. 
Fall  out  and  have  your  hurt  examined." 

"  It  is  a  flea-bite,"  quoth  Peter  Inglis,  stoutly. 

"A  man  this  !  "  thought  I.     For  I  loved  courage. 

Yet  nevertheless,  he  dismounted,  and  John  Scarlet  helped 
him  off  with  his  coat  upon  the  short  heather  of  the  brae- 
face. 

"  And  whom  may  we  have  here  ?  "  cried  Claverhouse,  as 
Inglis  went  stumblingly  to  the  hillside  upon  the  arm  of  John 
Scarlet.  He  turned  his  fine  dark  eyes  full  upon  me  as  he 
spoke,  and  I  thought  that  I  had  never  seen  any  man  look  so 
handsome.  Yet,  for  all  that,  fear  of  the  great  enemy  of  our 
house  and  cause  sat  cold  in  my  vitals.  Though  I  deny  not 
that  his  surpassing  beauty  of  person  took  my  eye  as  though  I 
had  been  a  woman  —  the  more  perhaps  because  I  had  little 
enough  of  my  own. 

But  my  kinsman  Wat  Gordon  was  no  whit  dismayed. 
He  dusted  his  silken  doublet  front,  swept  his  white-feathered 
hat  in  the  air  in  reverence,  and  introduced  me  to  the  formid- 
able captain  as  one  that  has  good  standing  and  knows  it 
weU: 

"  My  cousin,  William  Gordon,  younger  son  of  the  House 
of  Earlstoun !  " 

"Ah,"  said  Claverhouse,  smiling  upon  me  not  so  ill- 
pleased,  "  I  have  heard  of  him  —  the  home  stayer,  the  nest- 
egg.  He  that  rode  not  to  Bothwell  with  '  the  Earl '  *  and 
' the  Bull.'  Whither  rides  he  now  thus  early?  " 

"  He  rides,  Colonel  Graham,  to  bury  his  father." 

I  thought  my  cousin  was  too  bold  thus  to  blurt  out  my 

*  The  laird  of  Earlstoun  was  often  called  in  jest  "  the  Earl." 


THE  FIELD   OF  BOTHWELL  BRIG.  41 

mission,  to  the  chief  of  them  that  had  killed  him  whom  I 
went  to  seek,  but  he  was  wiser  than  I  in  this  matter. 

Claverhouse  smiled,  and  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other 
of  us. 

"  You  Gordons  have  your  own  troubles  to  get  your  fathers 
buried,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  you  will  claim  that  this  cub 
also  is  a  good  King's  man?" 

"He  is  well  affected,  colonel,"  said  Lochinvar  gaily; 
"and  there  are  none  too  many  likeminded  with  him  in 
these  parts  ! " 

"  Even  the  affectation  does  him  monstrous  credit,"  quoth 
Clavers,  clapping  Walter  on  the  shoulder ;  "  it  is  much  for 
a  Gordon  in  this  country  to  affect  such  a  virtue  as  loyalty. 
I  wonder,"  he  went  on,  apparently  to  himself,  "if  it  would 
be  possible  to  transplant  you  Gordons,  that  are  such  arrant 
rebels  here  and  so  loyal  in  the  North.  It  were  well  for  the 
land  if  this  could  be  done.  In  the  North  a  few  dozen 
Whigs  would  do  small  harm ;  here  ten  score  King's  men 
melled  and  married  would  settle  the  land  and  keep  the 
King's  peace." 

Then  he  looked  at  my  cousin  with  a  certain  uncommon 
gracious  affection  that  sat  well  on  him  —  all  the  more  that 
he  showed  such  a  thing  but  rarely. 

"  Well,  Wat,  for  your  sake  let  young  Earlstoun  go  bury 
his  father  in  peace,  an  it  likes  him.  The  more  Whigs  buried 
the  better  pleased  will  John  Graham  be.  If  he  will  only 
bury  his  brother  also  when  he  is  about  it,  he  will  rid  the 
earth  of  a  very  pestilent  fellow  ! " 

"There  is  no  great  harm  in  Sandy,"  returned  Lochinvar 
briskly  and  easily.  From  his  whole  demeanour  I  saw  that 
he  was  in  good  estimation  with  Colonel  Graham,  and  was 
accustomed  to  talk  familiarly  with  him. 

Perhaps  the  reason  was  that  Claverhouse  found  himself 
much  alone  in  Galloway.  When  he  ordered  a  muster  of  the 


42  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

lairds  and  the  well  affected,  only  Grier  of  Lag  and  Fergusson 
of  Craigdarroch  came  in,  and  even  they  brought  but  few  at 
their  back.  Then  again  these  rough-riding,  hard  drinkers  of 
Nithside  had  little  in  common  with  John  Graham.  But 
Lochinvar  was  well  trained  by  his  mother,  and  had  been 
some  time  about  the  court.  It  was,  doubtless,  a  relief  to  the 
high-bred  soldier  to  speak  to  him  after  the  foul  oaths  and 
scurril  jests  of  the  country  cavaliers. 

"  Why,"  said  Claverhouse,  "  as  you  say,  there  is  no  great 
harm  in  Sandy ;  but  yet  Sandy  hath  a  stout  arm  and  can  lay 
well  about  him  when  it  comes  to  the  dunts.  Sandy's  arm  is 
stronger  than  Sandy's  wit." 

All  this  time  I  had  not  spoken,  for  so  with  a  look  my 
cousin  Lochinvar  had  warned  me  to  let  him  speak  for  me ; 
but  now  I  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Colonel  Graham,"  I  said,  "for  your 
permission  to  go  and  bury  my  dead." 

"  Ay,"  said  Claverhouse,  with  a  certain  courteous  disdain 
that  was  natural  to  him,  but  which  he  dropped  when  he 
spoke  to  the  young  Lochinvar,  "  ay,  you  are  no  doubt  greatly 
obliged  to  me ;  but  your  father,  though  a  rebel,  fought  us 
fairly  and  deserves  clean  burial.  A  Whig  is  aye  best  buried 
at  any  rate,"  he  continued,  gathering  up  his  reins  as  one  that 
prepares  to  ride  away. 

"  Lochinvar,"  he  cried,  in  his  voice  of  command,  "  take 
Cornet  Inglis's  post  and  duty,  since  you  have  disabled  him. 
But  mark  me  well,  let  there  be  no  more  tullying  and  brawling, 
or  I  shall  send  you  all  to  bridewell.  Hark  you,  young  Wull- 
cat  of  Lochinvar,  I  cannot  have  my  officers  cut  up  when  they 
should  be  hunting  Whigs  —  and"  (looking  at  me)  "pre- 
paring them  for  burial." 

I  think  he  saw  the  hatred  in  my  eyes,  when  he  spoke  thus 
of  my  father  lying  stiff  at  a  dyke  back,  for  he  lifted  his  hat 
to  me  quaintly  as  he  went. 


THE  FIELD   OF  BOTHWELL  BRIG.  43 

"  A  good  journey  to  you,  and  a  fair  return,  young  Castle 
Keeper  ! "  he  said  with  a  scorning  of  his  haughty  lip. 

Yet  I  think  that  he  had  been  greater  and  worthier  had 
he  denied  himself  that  word  to  a  lad  on  my  errand. 

Of  our  further  progress  what  need  that  I  tell?  Hour 
after  hour  I  heard  the  horses'  feet  ring  on  the  road  dully,  as 
though  I  had  been  deep  under  ground  myself,  and  they 
trampling  over  me  with  a  rush.  It  irked  me  that  it  was  a 
fine  day  and  that  my  men,  Hugh  Kerr  and  John  Meikle- 
wood,  would  not  cease  to  speak  with  me.  But  all  things 
wear  round,  and  in  time  we  came  to  the  place,  where  one 
had  told  Sandy  as  he  fled  that  he  had  seen  William  Gordon 
of  Earlstoun  lie  stark  and  still. 

There  indeed  we  found  my  father  lying  where  he  had  fallen 
in  the  angle  of  a  great  wall,  a  mile  or  two  south  of  the  field 
of  Bothwell.  He  had  no  fewer  than  six  wounds  from  musket 
balls  upon  him.  As  I  looked  I  could  see  the  story  of  his 
end  written  plain  for  the  dullest  to  read.  He  had  been 
beset  by  a  party  of  dragoons  in  the  angle  of  a  great 
seven- foot  march  dyke  in  which  there  was  no  break.  They 
summoned  him  to  surrender.  He  refused,  as  I  knew  he 
would ;  and,  as  his  manner  was,  he  had  risked  all  upon  a 
single-handed  charge. 

As  we  heard  afterwards,  he  had  come  at  the  troopers  with 
such  fury  that  he  killed  three  and  wounded  another,  besides 
slaying  the  horse  that  lay  beside  him,  before,  with  a  storm 
of  bullets,  they  stopped  him  in  his  charge.  Thus  died,  not 
unworthily,  even  while  I  was  bringing  in  the  kye  in  the 
evening  at  Earlstoun,  William  Gordon,  a  father  of  whom, 
in  life  and  death,  no  son  need  be  ashamed. 

And  where  we  found  him,  there  we  buried  him,  wrapping 

,  him  just  as  he  was,  in  the  shrouds  my  mother  had  sent  for 

her  well-beloved.     Hugh  Kerr  was  for  taking  his  sword  out 

of  his  hand  to  keep  at  home  as  an  heirloom.    But  I  thought 


44  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

no.  For  his  hand  was  stiffened  upon  it  where  the  blood  had 
run  down  his  wrist.  And  besides,  it  had  been  his  friend 
while  he  lived  and  when  he  died,  and  it  was  hard  to  part 
him  with  that  which  had  been  to  him  as  the  sword  of  the 
Lord  and  of  Gideon.  So  we  buried  his  sword  and  him 
together,  laying  the  little  red  Bible,  stained  and  spotted 
with  his  blood,  open  upon  his  breast.  Then  we  happed 
him  up,  and  I,  who  could  at  that  time  fight  but  little,  put 
up  a  short  prayer  over  him  —  though  not,  of  course,  like  a 
minister,  or  one  bred  to  the  trade.  And  I  thought  as  I 
rode  away  that  it  was  better  to  leave  him  the  sword,  than 
that  Sandy  should  get  it  to  prate  about  at  his  general 
meetings.  Even  as  it  was  he  could  not  let  him  be,  but 
in  the  after  days  of  quiet  he  must  have  him  up  to  coffin 
him,  and  bury  in  the  kirkyard  of  Glassford.  Yet  to  do 
Sandy  justice,  he  had  the  grace  to  leave  him  the  sword 
in  his  hand. 

Now  my  father  had  not  fallen  on  the  battlefield  itself,  but 
rather  when  hastening  thither,  for  indeed  he  never  saw  the 
bridge,  nor  had  hand  in  the  guiding  of  the  host,  whose  blood 
Robert  Hamilton  poured  out  as  one  that  pours  good  wine 
upon  the  ground. 

Yet  because  we  were  so  near,  we  risked  the  matter  and 
rode  over  to  see  the  narrow  passage  of  the  Bridge  where 
they  had  fought  it  so  stoutly  all  day  long.  Here  and  there 
lay  dead  men  yet  unburied ;  but  the  countrymen  were 
gradually  putting  the  poor  bodies  in  the  earth.  Some  of 
them  lay  singly,  but  more  in  little  clusters  where  they  set 
their  backs  desperately  to  one  another,  and  had  it  out  with 
their  pursuers  that  they  might  die  fighting  and  not  running. 
Still  the  pursuit  had  not  been  unmerciful,  for  there  were 
few  that  had  fallen  beyond  the  long  avenues  of  the  Palace 
oaks. 

But  when  we  came  to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  looked 


THE  FIELD  OF  BOTHWELL  BRIG.  45 

down  upon  the  bridge-head  we  saw  the  very  grass  dyed  red, 
where  the  men  had  been  shot  down.  And  on  the  brae-sides 
where  Hamilton  had  drawn  them  up  when  he  called  them 
from  the  bridge-end,  they  had  fallen  in  swathes  like  barley. 
But  it  was  not  a  heartsome  sight,  and  we  turned  our  rein 
and  rode  away,  weary  and  sad  within. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   CURATE   OF  DALRY. 

WHEN  I  returned  to  Earlstoun  I  found  the  house  in  sad 
disorder.  Maisie  Lennox  I  found  not,  for  she  had  ridden 
to  the  Duchrae  to  meet  her  father  and  to  keep  the  house, 
which  had  had  some  unwonted  immunity  lately  because  of 
the  friendship  of  the  McGhies  of  Balmaghie.  For  old  Roger 
McGhie  was  a  King's  man  and  in  good  favour,  though  he  never 
went  far  from  home.  But  only  patrolled  his  properties, 
lundering  such  Whigs  as  came  his  way  with  a  great  staff,  but 
tenderly  withal  and  mostly  for  show.  His  daughter  Kate, 
going  the  way  of  most  women  folk,  was  the  bitterest  Whig  and 
most  determined  hearer  of  the  field-preachers  in  the  parish. 
Concerning  which  her  father  full  well  knew,  but  could  neither 
alter  nor  mend,  even  as  Duke  Rothes  himself  could  not  change 
his  lady's  liking.  Yet  for  Kate  McGhie's  sake  the  hunt  waxed 
easier  in  all  the  headend  of  Balmaghie.  And  during  this 
lown  blink,  old  Anton  came  home  from  the  hills  to  take  the 
comforts  of  the  bien  and  comfortable  house  of  the  Duchrae, 
for  it  promised  to  be  a  bitter  and  unkindly  season.  So  the 
Earlstoun  looked  a  little  bare  without  Maisie  Lennox,  and 
I  was  glad  that  I  was  to  be  but  a  short  time  in  it. 

For  another  thing,  the  soldiers  had  been  before  me,  and 
by  order  of  the  Council  had  turned  the  whole  gear  and  plen- 
ishing over  to  find  my  brother  Alexander  —  which  indeed 
seeing  what  he  had  done  at  Bothwell,  we  can  hardly  wonder 
at.  Even  the  intervention  of  our  well-affected  cousin  of 
Lochinvar  could  not  prevent  this.  The  horses  were  driven 

46 


THE  CURATE  OF  DALRY.  47 

away,  the  cattle  lifted  to  be  provender  for  the  King's  forces 
in  the  parish  of  Carsphairn  and  elsewhere.  And  it  would 
go  hard  with  us  —  if  indeed  we  should  even  be  permitted  to 
keep  the  place  that  had  been  ours  for  generations. 

My  mother  was  strongly  advised  that,  as  I  had  not  been 
mixed  with  the  outbreaks,  it  was  just  scant  possible  that  I 
might  make  something  of  an  appeal  to  the  Privy  Council  for 
the  continuing  of  the  properties,  and  the  substituting  of  a  fine. 
I  was  therefore  to  ride  to  Edinburgh  with  what  attendance  I 
could  muster,  and  with  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar  to  lead 
me  as  a  bairn  by  the  hand. 

But  it  was  with  a  sad  heart  and  without  much  pleasure,  save 
in  having  my  father's  silver  mounted  pistols  (for  I  counted 
myself  no  mean  marksman),  that  John  Meiklewood,  Hughie 
and  I  rode  off  from  the  arched  door  of  the  Earlstoun.  My 
mother  stood  on  the  step  and  waved  me  off  with  no  tear  in 
her  eye ;  and  even  poor  Jean  Hamilton,  from  the  window 
whence  she  could  see  the  great  oak  where  my  brother,  her 
husband,  was  in  hiding,  caused  a  kerchief  to  show  white 
against  the  grey  wall  of  Earlstoun.  I  think  the  poor  feckless 
bit  thing  had  a  sort  of  kindness  for  me.  But  when  there  was 
hardly  the  thickness  of  an  eggshell  between  her  man  and 
death,  it  was  perhaps  small  wonder  that  she  cherished  some 
jealousy  of  me,  riding  whither  I  listed  over  the  wide,  pleasant 
moors  where  the  bumble  bees  droned  and  the  stooping  wild 
birds  cried  all  the  livelong  day. 

At  St.  John's  Clachan  of  Dairy  we  were  to  meet  with 
Wildcat  Wat,  who  was  waiting  to  ride  forth  with  us  to  Edin- 
burgh upon  his  own  ploys.  We  dismounted  at  the  inn  where 
John  Barbour,  honest  man,  had  put  out  the  sign  of  his  pro- 
fession. It  was  a  low,  well-thatched  change-house,  sitting 
with  its  end  to  the  road  in  the  upper  part  of  the  village, 
with  good  offices  and  accommodation  for  man  and  horse 
about  it  —  the  same  hostel  indeed  in  which  the  matter  of 


48  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Rullion  Green  took  its  beginning.  Wat  came  down  the  street 
with  his  rapier  swinging  at  his  side,  his  feathered  Cavalier 
hat  on  his  head,  and  he  walked  with  a  grace  that  became 
him  well.  I  liked  the  lad,  and  sometimes  it  almost  seemed 
to  me  that  I  might  be  his  father,  though  indeed  our  years 
were  pretty  equal.  For  being  lame  and  not  a  fighter,  neither 
craving  ladies'  favours,  I  was  the  older  man,  for  the  years  of 
them  that  suffer  score  the  lines  deeper  on  a  man's  brow — 
and  on  his  heart  also. 

When  Wat  Gordon  mounted  into  the  saddle  with  an  easy 
spring  his  horse  bent  back  its  head  and  curveted,  biting  at  his 
foot.  So  that  I  rejoiced  to  see  the  brave  lad  sitting  like  a 
dart,  holding  his  reins  as  I  hold  my  pen,  and  resting  his 
other  hand  easily  on  his  thigh.  John  Scarlet,  his  man-at- 
arms,  mounted  and  rode  behind  him ;  and  when  I  saw  them 
up,  methought  there  was  not  a  pair  that  could  match  them 
in  Scotland.  Yet  I  knew  that  with  the  pistolets  at  paces 
ten  or  twenty,  I  was  the  master  of  both.  And  perhaps  it  was 
this  little  scrap  of  consolation  that  made  me  feel  so  entirely 
glad  to  see  my  cousin  look  so  bright  and  bonny.  Indeed 
had  I  been  his  lass  —  or  one  of  them,  for  if  all  tales  be  true 
he  had  routh  of  such  —  I  could  not  have  loved  better  to  see 
him  shine  in  the  company  of  men  like  the  young  god  Apollo 
among  the  immortals,  as  the  heathens  feign. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  village  there  came  one  out  of  a  white 
house  and  saluted  us.  I  knew  him  well,  though  I  had  never 
before  seen  him  so  near.  It  was  Peter  McCaskill,  the  curate 
of  the  parish.  But,  as  we  of  the  strict  Covenant  did  not  hear 
even  the  Indulged  ministers,  it  was  not  likely  that  we  would 
see  much  of  the  curate.  Nevertheless  I  had  heard  many 
tales  of  his  sayings  and  his  humours,  for  our  curate  was  not  as 
most  others  —  dull  and  truculent  knaves  many  of  them,  ac- 
cording to  my  thinking  —  the  scourings  of  the  North.  Peter 
was,  on  the  other  hand,  a  most  humoursome  varlet  and  ex- 


THE  CURATE   OF  DALRY.  49 

cellent  company  on  a  wet  day.  Sandy  and  he  used  often  to 
take  a  bottle  together  when  they  foregathered  at  John's  in 
the  Clachan ;  but  even  the  Bull  of  Earlstoun  could  not  keep 
steeks  or  count  mutchkins  with  Peter  McCaskill,  the  curate 
of  Dairy. 

On  this  occasion  he  stopped  and  greeted  us.  He  had  on 
him  a  black  coat  of  formal  enough  cut,  turned  green  with 
age  and  exposure  to  the  weather.  I  warrant  it  had  never  been 
brushed  since  he  had  put  it  on  his  back,  and  there  seemed 
good  evidence  upon  it  that  he  had  slept  in  it  for  a  month  at 
least. 

"  Whaur  gang  ye  screeving  to,  young  sirs,  so  brave  ?  "  he 
cried.  "  Be  canny  on  the  puir  Whiggies.  Draw  your  stick 
across  their  hurdies  when  ye  come  on  them,  an'  tell  them  to 
come  to  the  Clachan  o'  Dairy,  where  they  will  hear  a  better 
sermon  than  ever  they  gat  on  the  muirs,  or  my  name's 
no  Peter  McCaskill." 

"  How  now,  Curate,"  began  my  cousin,  reining  in  his  black 
and  sitting  at  ease,  "  are  you  going  to  take  to  the  hill  and 
put  Peden's  nose  out  of  joint?  " 

"  Faith,  an'  it's  my  mither's  ain  son  that  could  fettle  that," 
said  the  curate.  "  I'm  wae  for  the  puir  Whiggies,  that  winna 
hear  honest  doctrine  an'  flee  to  the  hills  and  hags  —  nesty, 
uncanny,  cauldrife  places  that  the  very  muir-fowl  winna 
clock  on.  Ken  ye  what  I  was  tellin'  them  the  ither  day? 
Na,  ye'll  no  hae  heard  —  it's  little  desire  ye  hae  for  either 
kirk  or  Covenant,  up  aboot  the  Garryhorn  wi'  red-wud  Lag 
and  headstrong  John  Graham.  Ye  need  as  muckle  to  come 
and  hear  Mess  John  pray  as  the  blackest  Whig  o'  them  a' !  " 

"  Indeed,  we  do  not  trouble  you  much,  Curate,"  laughed 
my  cousin ;  "  but  here  is  my  cousin  Will  of  Earlstoun,"  he 
said,  waving  his  hand  to  me,  "  and  he  is  nearly  as  good  as  a 
parson  himself,  and  can  pray  by  screeds." 

Which  was  hardly  a  just  thing  to  say,  for  though  I  could  pray 


SO  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

and  read  my  Bible  too  when  I  listed,  I  did  not  trouble  him 
or  any  other  with  the  matter.  Cain,  indeed,  had  something 
to  say  for  himself — for  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  be  made  one's 
brother's  keeper.  There  are  many  ways  that  may  take  me 
to  the  devil.  But,  I  thank  God,  officiousness  in  other  men's 
matters  shall  not  be  one  of  them. 

"He  prays,  does  he?"  quoth  McCaskill,  turning  his  shaggy 
eyebrows  on  me.  "  Aweel,  I'll  pray  him  ony  day  for  a  glass 
o'  John's  best.  Peter  McCaskill  needs  neither  read  sermon 
nor  service-book.  He  leaves  sic-like  at  hame,  and  the 
service  ye  get  at  his  kirk  is  as  guid  and  godly  as  gin  auld 
Sandy  himseF  were  stelled  up  in  a  preaching  tent  an'  thretty 
wizzened  plaided  wives  makkin'  a  whine  in  the  heather 
aneath  !  " 

"How  do  you  and  the  other  Peter  up  the  way  draw 
together?"  asked  my  cousin. 

The  curate  snapped  his  fingers. 

"  Peter  Pearson  o'  Carsphairn  —  puir  craitur,  he's  juist 
fair  daft  wi'  his  ridin'  an'  his  schemin'.  He  will  hear  a  pluff 
o'  pouther  gang  blaff  at  his  oxter  some  fine  day,  that  he'll 
be  the  waur  o'  !  An'  sae  I  hae  telled  him  mony's  the  time. 
But  Margate  McCaskilFs  son  is  neither  a  Whig  hunter  nor 
yet  as  this  daft  Peter  Pearson.  He  bides  at  hame  an'  minds 
his  glebe.  But  for  a'  that  I  canna  control  the  silly  fowk.  I 
was  fearin'  them  the  ither  day,"  he  went  on.  "  I  gied  it  oot 
plain  frae  the  pulpit  that  gin  they  didna  come  as  far  as  the 
kirkyaird  at  ony  rate,  I  wad  tak'  no  more  lees  on  my  con- 
science for  their  sakes.  I  hae  plenty  o'  my  ain  to  gar  me 
fry.  '  But,'  says  I,  '  I'll  report  ye  as  attendin'  the  kirk,  gin 
ye  walk  frae  yae  door  o'  the  kirk  to  the  ither  withoot  rinnin'. 
Nae  man  can  say  fairer  nor  that.'  " 

"An'  what  said  ye  next,  Curate?"  asked  my  cousin,  for 
his  talk  amused  us  much,  and  indeed  there  were  few  merry 
things  in  these  sad  days. 


THE  CURATE  OF  DALRY.  51 

"  Ow,"  said  Peter  McCaskill,  "  I  juist  e'en  said  to  them, 
'Black  be  your  fa'.  Ye  are  a'  off  to  the  hills  thegither. 
Hardly  a  tyke  or  messan  but's  awa'  to  Peden  to  get  her 
whaulpies  named  at  the  Holy  Linn  !  But  I  declare  to  ye  a', 
what  will  happen  in  this  parish.  Sorra  gin  I  dinna  inform 
on  ye,  an'  then  ye'll  be  a'  eyther  shot  or  hangit  before 
Yule  ! '  That's  what  I  said  to  them  !  " 

Wat  Gordon  laughed,  and  I  was  fain  to  follow  suit,  for  it 
was  a  common  complaint  that  the  curate  of  Dairy  was  half 
a  Whig  himself.  And,  indeed,  had  he  not  been  ever  ready  to 
drink  a  dozen  of  Clavers's  officers  under  the  table,  and  clout 
the  head  of  the  starkest  carle  in  his  troop,  it  might  have 
gone  ill  with  him  more  than  once. 

"  But  I  hae  a  bit  sma'  request  to  make  of  ye,  Walter  Gor- 
don o'  Lochinvar  an'  Gordiestoun,"  said  the  curate. 

"Haste  ye,"  said  Wat,  "for  ye  hae  taigled  us  overly 
long  already." 

"  An'  it's  this,"  said  the  curate,  "  I  hae  to  ride  to  Edinburgh 
toon,  there  to  tell  mair  lees  than  I  am  likely  to  be  sained  o' 
till  I  am  a  bishop  an*  can  lee  wi'  a  leecence.  But  it's  the 
Privy  Council's  wull,  an'  sae  I  maun  e'en  lee.  That  tearin' 
blackguard,  Bob  Grier,  has  written  to  them  that  1  am  better 
affected  to  the  Whigs  than  to  the  troopers  of  Garryhorn,  and 
I  am  behoved  to  gang  and  answer  for  it." 

"Haste  ye,  then,  and  ride  with  us,"  cried  Walter,  whose 
horse  had  stood  long  enough.  "We  ride  toward  the  Nith 
with  Colonel  Graham,  and  after  that  to  Edinburgh." 

So  in  a  little  the  curate  was  riding  stoutly  by  our  side. 
We  were  to  travel  by  Dumfries  and  Lockerbie  into  Eskdale, 
whither  Claverhouse  had  preceded  us,  obeying  an  urgent 
call  from  his  acquaintance,  Sir  James  Johnstone  of  Wester- 
hall,  who  was  still  more  eager  to  do  the  King's  will  than  he 
—  though,  to  begin  with,  he  had  been  a  Covenant  man,  and 
that  of  some  mark  too.  But  the  fear  of  fines,  and  the  bad 


52  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

example  of  his  neighbours  ever  before  his  eyes,  had  brought 
out  the  hidden  cruelty  of  the  man.  So  now  he  rode  at 
Claverhouse's  bridle-rein,  and  the  pair  of  them  held  black 
counsel  on  the  state  of  the  country.  But  the  mood  of 
Claverhouse  was,  at  worst,  only  that  of  military  severity, 
without  heart  of  ruth  or  bowels  of  mercy  indeed;  but  that 
of  Westerhall  was  rather  of  roystering  and  jubilant  brutality, 
both  of  action  and  intent. 

So  we  rode  and  we  better  rode  till  we  came  to  Eskdale, 
where  we  found  Westerhall  in  his  own  country.  Now  I 
could  see  by  the  behaviour  of  the  soldiers  as  we  went,  that 
some  of  them  had  small  good  will  to  the  kind  of  life  they 
led,  for  many  of  them  were  of  the  country-side  and,  as  it 
seemed,  were  compelled  to  drive  and  harry  their  own  kith 
and  kin.  This  they  covered  with  a  mighty  affectation  of 
ease,  crying  oaths  and  curses  hither  and  thither  tem- 
pestuously behind  their  leaders  —  save  only  when  John 
Graham  rode  near  by,  a  thing  which  more  than  anything 
made  them  hold  their  peace,  lest  for  discipline's  sake  he 
should  bid  them  be  silent,  with  a  look  that  would  chill 
their  marrows. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THROUGH  DEATH'S  DARK  VALE. 

Now  this  Eskdale  was  the  Johnstone's  own  country,  and 
one  in  which  I  was  noways  at  home  —  a  country  of  wide 
green  holms  and  deep  blind  "hopes"  or  hollows  among 
the  mountains,  where  the  cloud  shadows  bide  and  linger, 
and  whence  they  come  out  again  to  scud  swiftly  over  the 
hips  of  the  hills.  I  had  been  trained  to  be  pleasant  and 
prudent  in  my  conversation,  and  there  was  little  to  take  me 
out  of  myself  in  the  company  I  had  perforce  to  keep.  Yet 
I  dared  not  withdraw  myself  from  their  train,  lest  the  jealousy 
of  our  band,  which  was  latent  among  the  more  scurril  of 
them,  should  break  out.  So  I  rode  mostly  silent,  but  with 
a  pleased  countenance  which  belied  my  heart. 

Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the  good  liking  which  every- 
where pursued  my  cousin  Lochinvar,  I  cannot  tell  what 
might  have  come  out  of  the  dislike  for  us  "Glenkens 
Whiggies,"  which  was  their  mildest  word  for  us.  Yet  my 
man  Hugh  never  said  a  word,  for  he  was  a  prudent  lad  and 
slow  of  speech;  while  I,  being  no  man  of  war,  also  looked 
well  to  my  words,  and  let  a  wary  tongue  keep  my  head.  As 
for  John  Meiklewood,  honest  man,  he  took  suddenly  one 
morning  what  he  termed  a  "sair  income  in  his  wame,"  and 
leave  being  scantily  asked,  he  hied  him  home  to  his  wife 
and  weans  at  the  Mains  of  Earlstoun. 

Now  this  was  the  manner  of  our  march.     Claverhouse 

sent  his  horse  scouring  up  on  the  tops  of  the  hills  and  along 

'  the  higher  grounds,  while  his  foot  quartered  the  lower  dis- 

53 


54  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

tricts,  bringing  all  such  as  were  in  any  way  suspicious  to 
the  kirkyards  to  be  examined.  Old  and  young,  men  and 
women  alike,  were  taken;  and  often  —  chiefly,  it  is  true, 
behind  Claverhouse's  back  —  the  soldiers  were  most  cruel 
at  the  business,  making  my  blood  boil,  till  I  thought  that 
I  must  fly  out  and  strike  some  of  them.  I  wondered  not 
any  longer  that  my  father  had  taken  to  the  hill,  sick  to 
death  of  the  black  terror  which  Charles's  men  caused  daily 
to  fall  upon  all  around  them,  wherever  in  Scotland  men 
cared  enough  about  their  religion  to  suffer  for  it. 

How  my  cousin  Lochinvar  stood  it  I  cannot  tell.  Indeed 
I  think  that  but  for  the  teaching  of  his  mother,  and  the 
presence  of  John  Scarlet,  who  at  this  time  was  a  great  King's 
man  and  of  much  influence  with  Wat  Gordon,  he  had  been 
as  much  incensed  as  I. 

One  morning  in  especial  I  mind  well.  It  was  a  Tuesday, 
and  our  company  was  under  the  command  of  this  Johnstone 
of  Westerha',  who  of  all  the  clan,  being  a  turncoat,  was  the 
cruellest  and  the  worst.  For  the  man  was  in  his  own 
country,  and  among  his  own  kenned  faces,  his  holders  and 
cottiers  —  so  that  the  slaughter  of  them  was  as  easy  as  kill- 
ing chickens  reared  by  hand. 

And  even  Claverhouse  rather  suffered,  and  shut  his  eyes 
to  it,  than  took  part  in  the  hard  driving. 

"Draw  your  reins  here,"  the  Johnstone  would  say,  as  we 
came  to  the  loaning  foot  of  some  little  white  lime-washed 
house  with  a  reeking  lum.  "  There  are  some  Bible  folk  here 
that  wad  be  none  the  worse  o'  a  bit  ca' !  " 

So  he  rode  up  to  the  poor  muirland  housie  sitting  by  itself 
all  alone  among  the  red  heather.  Mostly  the  folk  had 
marked  us  come,  and  often  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen, 
but,  as  it  might  be,  a  bairn  or  two  playing  about  the  green. 

Then  he  would  have  these  poor  bits  of  things  gathered  up 
and  begin  to  fear  them,  or  contrariwise  to  offer  them  fair 


THROUGH   DEATH'S   DARK  VALE.  55 

things  if  only  they  would  tell  where  their  parents  were,  and 
who  were  used  to  come  about  the  house. 

There  is  a  place,  Shieldhill  by  name,  that  sits  blithely  on 
the  brae-face  at  the  entering  in  of  Annandale.  The  country 
thereabouts  is  not  very  wild,  and  there  are  many  cotter 
houses  set  about  the  holms  and  dotted  among  the  knowes. 
Westerha'  enclosed  the  whole  with  a  ring  of  his  men,  and 
came  upon  them  as  he  thought  unawares,  for  he  said  the 
place  was  like  a  conventicle,  and  rife  with  psalm -singers. 
But  he  was  a  wild  man  when  he  found  the  men  and  women 
all  fled,  and  only  the  bairns,  as  before,  feared  mostly  out  of 
their  lives,  sitting  cowering  together  by  the  ingle,  or  hiding 
about  the  byres. 

"  I'll  fear  them  waur,"  said  Westerha*,  as  he  came  to  the 
third  house  and  found  as  before  only  two-three  weans,  "  or 
my  name  is  no  James  Johnstone." 

So  what  did  this  ill-set  Johnstone  do,  but  gather  them  all 
up  into  a  knot  by  a  great  thorn-tree  that  grows  on  the  slope. 
This  Tuesday  morn  was  clear  and  sunny — not  bright,  but 
with  a  kind  of  diffused  light,  warm  and  without  shadows,  as 
if  the  whole  arch  of  the  lift  were  but  one  sun,  yet  not  so 
bright  as  the  sun  we  mostly  have. 

There  were  some  thirty  bairns  by  the  tree,  mostly  of  Wes- 
terha's  own  name,  save  those  that  were  Jardines,  Grahams, 
and  Charterises,  for  those  are  the  common  names  of  that 
country-side.  The  children  stood  together,  huddled  in  a 
cloud,  too  frightened  to  speak  or  even  to  cry  aloud.  And 
one  thing  I  noticed,  that  the  lassie  bairns  were  stiller  and 
grat  not  so  much  as  the  boys  —  all  save  one,  who  was  a 
laddie  of  about  ten  years.  He  stood  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  and  his  face  was  very  white ;  but  he  threw  back  his 
head  and  looked  the  dragoons  and  Annandale's  wild  riders 
fair  in  the  face  as  one  that  has  conquered  fear. 

Then  Westerha'  rode  forward  almost  to  the  midst  of  the 


56  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

cloud  of  bairns,  "  gollering "  and  roaring  at  the  bit  things 
to  frighten  them,  as  was  his  custom  with  such.  They  were 
mostly  from  six  to  ten  years  of  their  age ;  and  when  I  saw 
them  thus  with  their  feared  white  faces,  I  wished  that  I  had 
been  six  foot  of  my  inches,  and  with  twenty  good  men  of 
the  Glen  at  my  back.  But  I  minded  that  I  was  but  a  boy 
—  "stay-at-home  John,"  as  Sandy  called  me  —  and  worth 
nothing  with  my  hands.  So  I  could  only  fret  and  be  silent. 
I  looked  for  my  cousin  Lochinvar,  but  he  was  riding  at  the 
Graham's  bridle  rein,  and  that  day  I  saw  nothing  of  him. 
But  I  wondered  how  this  matter  of  the  bairns  liked  him. 

So  Westerha'  rode  nearer  to  them,  shouting  like  a  shepherd 
crying  down  the  wind  tempestuously,  when  his  dogs  are 
working  sourly. 

"  Hark  ye,"  he  cried,  "  ill  bairns  that  ye  are,  ye  are  all  to 
dee,  and  that  quickly,  unless  ye  answer  me  what  I  shall  ask 
of  you." 

Then  I  saw  something  that  I  had  never  seen  but  among  the 
sheep,  and  it  was  a  most  pitiful  and  heart-wringing  thing  to 
see,  though  now  in  the  telling  it  seems  no  great  matter.  There 
is  a  time  of  the  year  when  it  is  fitting  that  the  lambs  should 
be  separated  from  the  ewes ;  and  it  ever  touches  me  nearly 
to  see  the  flock  of  poor  lammies  when  first  the  dogs  come 
near  to  them  to  begin  the  work,  and  wear  them  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  they  are  to  depart.  All  their  little  lives  the 
lambs  had  run  to  their  mothers  at  the  first  hint  of  danger. 
Now  they  have  no  mothers  to  flee  to,  and  you  can  see  them 
huddle  and  pack  in  a  frightened  solid  bunch,  quivering  with 
apprehension,  all  with  their  sweet  little  winsome  faces  turned 
one  way.  Then  as  the  dogs  run  nearer  to  start  them,  there 
comes  from  them  a  little  low  broken-hearted  bleating,  as  if 
terror  were  driving  the  cry  out  of  them  against  their  wills. 
Thus  it  is  with  the  lambs  on  the  hill,  and  so  also  it  was  with 
the  bairns  that  clung  together  in  a  cluster  on  the  brae-face. 


THROUGH  DEATH'S  DARK  VALE.  57 

A  party  of  soldiers  was  now  drawn  out  before  them,  and 
the  young  things  were  bid  look  into  the  black  muzzles  of  the 
muskets.  They  were  indeed  loaded  only  with  powder,  but 
the  children  were  not  to  know  that. 

"  Now,"  cried  Westerha',  "  tell  me  who  comes  to  your 
houses  at  night,  and  who  goes  away  early  in  the  morning  !  " 

The  children  crept  closer  to  one  another,  but  none  of 
them  answered.  Whereupon  Westerha'  indicated  one  with 
his  finger  —  the  lad  who  stood  up  so  straightly  and  held  his 
head  back. 

"You,  young  Cock-of-the-heather,  what  might  be  your 
black  Whig's  name?" 

"Juist  the  same  as  your  honour's — James  Johnstone  !" 
replied  the  boy,  in  no  way  abashed. 

Methought  there  ran  a  titter  of  laughter  among  the  sol- 
diers, for  Westerha'  was  noways  so  well  liked  among  the 
soldiers  as  Claverhouse  or  even  roaring  Grier  of  Lag. 

"  And  what  is  your  father's  name  ?  "  continued  Westerha', 
bending  just  one  black  look  upon  the  lad. 

"  James  Johnstone  !  "  yet  again  replied  the  boy. 

Back  in  the  ranks  some  one  laughed. 

Westerhall  flung  an  oath  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Who  was  the  man  who  laughed  ?  I  shall  teach  you  to 
laugh  at  the  Johnstone  in  his  own  country  !  " 

"  It  was  Jeems  Johnstone  of  Wanphray  that  laughed,  your 
honour,"  replied  the  calm  voice  of  a  troop-sergeant. 

Then  Westerha'  set  himself  without  another  word  to  the 
work  of  examination,  which  suited  him  well. 

"  You  will  not  answer,  young  rebels,"  he  cried,  "  ken  you 
what  they  get  that  will  not  speak  when  the  King  bids 
them?" 

"  Are  you  the  King?  "  said  the  lad  of  ten  who  had  called 
himself  James  Johnstone. 

At  this  Westerhall  waxed  perfectly  furious,  with  a  pale 


58  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

and  shaking  fury  that  I  liked  not  to  see.  But  indeed  the 
whole  was  so  distasteful  to  me  that  sometimes  I  could  but 
turn  my  head  away. 

"Now,  ill  bairns,"  said  Westerha',  "and  you,  my  young 
rebel-namesake,  hearken  ye.  The  King's  command  is  not 
to  be  made  light  of.  And  I  tell  you  plainly  that  as  you  will 
not  answer,  I  am  resolved  that  you  shall  all  be  shot  dead  on 
the  spot !  " 

With  that  he  sent  men  to  set  them  out  in  rows,  and  make 
them  kneel  down  with  kerchiefs  over  their  eyes. 

Now  when  the  soldiers  came  near  to  the  huddled  cluster 
of  bairns,  that  same  little  heart-broken  bleating  which  I  have 
heard  the  lambs  make,  broke  again  from  them.  It  made 
my  heart  bleed  and  the  nerves  tingle  in  my  palms.  And 
this  was  King  Charles  Stuart  making  war !  It  had  not  been 
his  father's  way. 

But  the  soldiers,  though  some  few  were  smiling  a  little  as 
at  an  excellent  play,  were  mostly  black  ashamed.  Never- 
theless they  took  the  bairns  and  made  them  kneel,  for  that 
was  the  order,  and  without  mutiny  they  could  not  better  it. 

"  Sodger-man,  wull  ye  let  me  tak'  my  wee  brither  by  the 
hand  and  dee  that  way?  I  think  he  wad  thole  it  better  ! " 
said  a  little  maid  of  eight,  looking  up. 

And  the  soldier  let  go  a  great  oath  and  looked  at  Wes- 
terha' as  though  he  could  have  slain  him. 

"  Bonny  wark,"  he  cried,  "  deil  burn  me  gin  I  listed  for 
this  ! " 

But  the  little  lass  had  already  taken  her  brother  by  the  hand. 

"  Bend  doon  bonny,  Alec  my  man,  doon  on  your  knees  !  " 
said  she. 

The  boy  glanced  up  at  her.  He  had  long  yellow  hair 
like  Jean  Hamilton's  little  Alec. 

"Wull  it  be  sair?"  he  asked.  "Think  ye,  Maggie?  I 
houp  it'll  no  be  awfu'  sair  !  " 


THROUGH  DEATH'S  DARK  VALE.  59 

"  Na,  Alec,"  his  sister  made  answer,  "  it'll  no  be  either 
lang  or  sair." 

But  the  boy  of  ten,  whose  name  was  James  Johnstone, 
neither  bent  nor  knelt. 

"  I  hae  dune  nae  wrang.  I'll  juist  dee  this  way,"  he  said ; 
and  he  stood  up  like  one  that  straightens  himself  at  drill. 

Then  Westerha'  bid  fire  over  the  bairns'  heads,  which 
was  cruel,  cruel  work,  and  only  some  of  the  soldiers  did 
it.  But  even  the  few  pieces  that  went  off  made  a  great 
noise  in  that  lonely  place.  At  the  sound  of  the  muskets 
some  of  the  bairns  fell  forward  on  their  faces  as  if  they  had 
been  really  shot.  Some  leapt  in  the  air,  but  the  most  part 
knelt  quietly  and  composedly. 

The  little  boy  Alec,  whose  sister  had  his  hand  clasped 
in  hers,  made  as  if  he  would  rise. 

"Bide  ye  doon,  Alec,"  she  said,  very  quietly,  "it's  no 
oor  turn  yet ! " 

At  this  the  heart  within  me  gave  way,  and  I  roared  out 
in  my  helpless  pain  a  perfect  "  gowl "  of  anger  and  grief. 

"  Bonny  Whigs  ye  are,"  cried  Westerha',  "  to  dee  withoot 
even  a  prayer.  Put  up  a  prayer  this  minute,  for  ye  shall 
all  dee,  every  one  of  you." 

And  the  boy  James  Johnstone  made  answer  to  him : 

"  Sir,  we  cannot  pray,  for  we  be  too  young  to  pray." 

"  You  are  not  too  young  to  rebel,  nor  yet  to  die  for  it ! " 
was  the  brute-beast's  answer. 

Then  with  that  the  little  girl  held  up  a  hand  as  if  she 
were  answering  a  dominie  in  a  class. 

"An  it  please  ye,  sir,"  she  said,  "me  an'  Alec  canna 
pray,  but  we  can  sing  '  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,'  gin  that 
wull  do  !  My  mither  learned  it  us  afore  she  gaed  awa'." 

And  before  any  one  could  stop  her,  she  stood  up  like  one 
that  leads  the  singing  in  a  kirk.  "  Stan'  up,  Alec,  my  wee 
mannie."  she  said. 


60  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then  all  the  bairns  stood  up.  I  declare  it  minded  me  of 
Bethlehem  and  the  night  when  Herod's  troopers  rode  down 
to  look  for  Mary's  bonny  Bairn. 

Then  from  the  lips  of  the  babes  and  sucklings  arose  the 
quavering  strains : 

"The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want. 

He  makes  me  down  to  lie 
In  pastures  green;   He  leadeth  me 
The  quiet  waters  by." 

As  they  sang  I  gripped  out  my  pistols  and  began  to  sort 
and  prime  them,  hardly  knowing  what  I  did.  For  I  was 
resolved  to  make  a  break  for  it,  and,  at  the  least,  to  blow  a 
hole  in  James  Johnstone  of  Westerha'  that  would  mar  him 
for  life  before  I  suffered  any  more  of  it. 

But  as  they  sang  I  saw  trooper  after  trooper  turn  away 
his  head,  for,  being  Scots  bairns,  they  had  all  learned  that 
psalm.  The  ranks  shook.  Man  after  man  fell  out,  and  I 
saw  the  tears  happing  down  their  cheeks.  But  it  was  Doug- 
las of  Morton,  that  stark  persecutor,  who  first  broke  down. 

"  Curse  it,  Westerha',"  he  cried, "  I  canna  thole  this  langer. 
I'll  war  nae  mair  wi'  bairns  for  a'  the  earldom  i'  the  North." 

And  at  last  even  Westerha'  turned  his  bridle  rein,  and  rode 
away  from  off  the  bonny  holms  of  Shieldhill,  for  the  victory 
was  to  the  bairns.  I  wonder  what  his  thoughts  were,  for  he 
too  had  learned  that  psalm  at  the  knees  of  his  mother.  And 
as  the  troopers  rode  loosely  up  hill  and  down  brae,  broken 
and  ashamed,  the  sound  of  these  bairns'  singing  followed 
after  them,  and  soughing  across  the  fells  came  the  words  : 

"  Yea,  though  I  walk  in  Death's  dark  vale, 

Yet  will  I  fear  none  ill : 
For  Thou  art  with  me;  and  Thy  rod 
And  staff  me  comfort  still." 

Then  Westerha'  swore  a  great  oath  and  put  the  spurs  in 
his  horse  to  get  clear  of  the  sweet  singing. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  GRAVE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

BUT  on  the  morrow  I,  who  desired  to  see  the  ways  of  the 
Compellers,  learned  a  lesson  that  ended  my  scholarship  days 
with  them.  James  Johnstone  seemed  somewhat  moved  by 
the  matter  of  the  bairns,  but  by  the  morning  light  he  had 
again  hardened  his  heart,  like  Pharaoh,  more  bitterly  than 
before.  For  he  was  now  on  his  own  land,  and  because  his 
thought  was  that  the  King  would  hold  him  answerable  for 
the  behaviour  and  repute  of  his  people,  he  became  more  than 
ordinarily  severe.  This  he  did,  being  a  runnagate  from  the 
wholesome  ways  of  the  Covenant ;  and,  therefore,  the  more 
bitter  against  all  who  remained  of  that  way. 

He  drove  into  the  yards  of  the  farm-towns,  raging  like  a 
tiger  of  the  Indies,  now  calling  on  the  names  of  the  goodman  of 
the  house,  and  now  upon  other  suspected  persons.  And  if 
they  did  not  run  out  to  him  at  the  first  cry,  he  would  strike 
them  on  the  face  with  the  basket  hilt  of  his  shable  till  the 
blood  gushed  out.  It  was  a  sick  and  sorry  thing  to  see,  and 
I  think  his  Majesty's  troopers  were  ashamed ;  all  saving  the 
Johnstone's  own  following,  who  laughed  as  at  rare  sport. 

But  I  come  now  to  tell  what  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  of 
the  famous  matter  of  Andrew  Herries,  which  was  the  cause 
of  my  cousin  of  Lochinvar  leaving  their  company  and  riding 
with  me  and  Hugh  Kerr  all  the  way  to  Edinburgh.  As,  in- 
deed, you  shall  presently  hear.  And  the  manner  of  its  hap- 
pening was  as  follows.  We  were  riding  full  slowly  along  the 
edge  of  a  boggy  loch  in  the  parish  of  Hutton,  and,  as  usual, 

61 


62  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

quartering  the  ground  for  Whig  refugees,  of  whom  it  was 
suspected  that  there  were  many  lurking  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. We  had  obtained  no  success  in  our  sport,  and 
Westerhall  was  a  wild  man.  He  ran  about  crying  "  Blood 
and  wounds  ! "  which  was  a  favourite  oath  of  his,  and  tell- 
ing what  he  would  do  to  those  who  dared  to  rebel,  and  har- 
bour preachers  and  preachers'  brats  on  his  estate.  For  we 
had  heard  that  the  lass  who  had  bearded  us  on  the  brae- 
face  by  the  school,  with  her  little  brother  Alec  in  her  hand, 
was  the  daughter  of  Roger  Allison,  a  great  preacher  of  the 
hill-folk  who  had  come  to  them  over  from  Holland,  to  draw 
them  together  into  some  of  their  ancient  unity  and  power. 

Westerhall,  then,  knew  not  as  yet  in  whose  house  she  was 
dwelling,  but  only  that  she  had  been  received  by  one  of  his 
people.  But  this,  if  it  should  come  to  Claverhouse's  ears, 
was  enough  to  cause  him  to  set  a  fine  upon  the  Johnstone  — 
so  strict  as  against  landlords  were  the  laws  concerning  inter- 
communing  with  rebels  or  rebels'  children  on  their  estates. 
This  was  indeed  the  cause  of  so  many  of  the  lairds,  who 
at  first  were  all  on  the  side  of  the  Covenant,  turning  out 
Malignants  and  persecutors.  And  more  so  in  the  shire  of 
Dumfries  than  in  Galloway,  where  the  muirs  are  broader, 
the  King's  arm  not  so  long,  and  men  more  desperately  dour 
to  drive. 

All  of  a  sudden,  as  we  went  along  the  edge  of  a  morass, 
we  came  upon  something  that  stayed  us.  It  was,  as  I  say, 
in  Hutton  parish,  a  very  pleasant  place,  where  there  is  the 
crying  of  many  muirfowl,  and  the  tinkle  of  running  water 
everywhere.  All  at  once  a  questing  dragoon  held  up  his 
arm,  and  cried  aloud.  It  was  the  signal  that  he  had  found 
something  worthy  of  note.  We  all  rode  thither  —  I,  for 
one,  praying  that  it  might  not  be  a  poor  wanderer,  too 
wearied  to  run  from  before  the  face  of  the  troopers'  wide- 
spreading  advance. 


THE  GRAVE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  63 

However,  it  was  but  a  newly-made  grave  in  the  wilder- 
ness, hastily  dug,  and  most  pitifully  covered  with  green 
fresh-cut  turves,  in  order  to  give  it  the  look  of  the  surround- 
ing morass.  It  had  very  evidently  been  made  during  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  and  it  might  have  passed  without 
notice  then.  But  now,  in  the  broad  equal  glare  of  the  noon- 
tide, it  lay  confessed  for  what  it  was  —  a  poor  wandering 
hill-man's  grave  in  the  wild. 

"  Who  made  this  ?  "  cried  Westerhall.  "  Burn  me  on  the 
deil's  brander,  but  I'll  find  him  out !  " 

"  Hoot,"  said  Clavers,  who  was  not  sharp  set  that  day, 
perhaps  having  had  enough  of  WesterhalPs  dealing  with  the 
bairns  yesterday,  "  come  away,  Johnstone ;  'tis  but  another 
of  your  Eskdale  saints.  Ye  have  no  lack  of  them  on  your 
properties,  as  the  King  will  no  doubt  remember.  What 
signifies  a  Whig  Johnstone  the  less?  There's  more  behind 
every  dyke,  and  then  their  chief  is  aye  here,  able  and 
willing  to  pay  for  them  ! " 

This  taunt,  uttered  by  the  insolent  scorning  mouth  of 
Claverhouse,  made  Westerhall  neither  to  hold  nor  bind. 
Indeed  the  fear  of  mulct  and  fine  rode  him  like  the  hag  of 
dreams. 

"Truth  of  God  !  "  cried  he  ;  for  he  was  a  wild  and  blas- 
phemous man,  very  reckless  in  his  words ;  "  do  so  to  me, 
and  more  also,  if  I  rack  not  their  limbs,  that  gied  the  clouts 
to  wrap  him  in.  I'se  burn  the  bed  he  lay  in,  bring  doon 
the  rafter  and  roof-tree  that  sheltered  him  —  aye,  though 
it  were  the  bonny  hoose  o'  St.  Johnstone  itseP,  an'  lay  the 
harbourer  of  the  dead  Whig  cauld  i'  the  clay,  gin  it  were 
the  mither  that  bore  me  !  Deil  reestle  me  gin  I  keep  not 
this  vow." 

Now,  the  most  of  the  men  there  were  upon  occasion 
bonny  swearers,  not  taking  lessons  in  the  art  from  any  man ; 
but  to  the  Johnstone  they  were  as  children.  For,  being  a 


64  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

runnagate  Covenanter,  and  not  accustomed  in  his  youth 
to  swear,  he  had  been  at  some  pains  to  learn  the  habit  with 
care,  thinking  it  a  necessary  accomplishment  and  ornament 
to  such  as  did  the  King's  business,  especially  to  a  captain 
of  horse.  Which,  indeed,  it  hath  ever  been  held,  but  in 
moderation  and  with  discretion.  Westerhall  had  neither, 
being  the  man  he  was. 

"  Fetch  the  Whig  dog  up  !  "  he  commanded. 

The  men  hesitated,  for  it  was  a  job  not  at  all  to  their 
stomachs,  as  well  it  might  not  be  that  hot  day,  with  the  sun 
fierce  upon  them  overhead. 

"  Tut,  man,"  said  Clavers,  "  let  him  lie.  What  more  can 
ye  do  but  smell  him  ?  Is  he  not  where  you  and  I  would 
gladly  see  all  his  clan?  Let  the  ill-favoured  Whig  be,  I 
say!" 

"  I  shall  find  out  who  sheltered  him  on  my  land.  Howk 
him  up  ! "  cried  Westerhall,  more  than  ever  set  in  his  mad 
cruelty  at  Colonel  Graham's  words.  So  to  the  light  of  the 
merciless  day  they  opened  out  the  loose  and  shallow  grave, 
and  came  on  one  wrapped  in  a  new  plaid,  with  winding 
sheets  of  pure  linen  underneath.  These  were  all  stained 
and  soaked  with  the  black  brew  of  the  moss,  for  the  man 
had  been  buried,  as  was  usual  at  the  time,  hastily  and 
without  a  coffin.  But  the  sleuthhound  instinct  of  the  John- 
stone  held  good.  "  Annandale  for  the  hunt,  Nithsdale  for  the 
market,  and  Gallowa'  for  the  fecht !  "  is  ever  a  true  proverb. 

"  Let  me  see  wha's  aucht  the  sheet?  "  he  said. 

So  with  that,  Westerhall  unwound  the  corner  and  held  it 
up  to  the  light. 

"  Isobel  Allison  ! "  he  exclaimed,  holding  the  fine  linen 
up  to  the  light,  and  reading  the  name  inwoven,  as  was 
then  the  custom  when  a  bride  did  her  providing.  "The 
widow  Herries,  the  verra  woman  —  ain  dam's  sister  to  the 
Whig  preacher  —  sant  amang  the  hill- folk.  Weel  ken  I  the 


THE  GRAVE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  65 

kind  o'  her.  To  the  hill,  lads,  and  we  will  burn  the  randy 
oot,  even  as  I  said.  I'll  learn  the  Hutton  folk  to  play  wi' 
the  beard  o'  St.  Johnstone." 

"  Foul  Annandale  thief!  "  said  I,  but  stilly  to  myself,  for 
who  was  I  to  stand  against  all  of  them?  Yet  I  could  see 
that,  save  and  except  the  chiefs  own  ragged  tail,  there  were 
none  of  the  soldiers  that  thought  this  kind  of  work  becoming. 

Ere  he  mounted,  Westerhall  took  the  poor,  pitiful  body, 
and  with  his  foot  despitefully  tumbled  it  into  a  moss-hole. 

"  I'll  show  them  what  it  is  to  streek  dead  Whigs  like  hon- 
est men,  and  row  them  dainty  in  seventeen  hunder  linen  on 
my  land  !  "  cried  Westerhall. 

And  indeed  it  seemed  a  strange  and  marvellous  Providence 
to  me,  that  young  Isobel  Allison,  when  she  wove  in  that  name 
with  many  hopes  and  prayers,  the  blood  of  her  body  flushing 
her  cheek  with  a  maiden's  shy  expectation,  should  have  been 
weaving  in  the  ruin  of  her  house  and  the  breaking  of  her 
heart. 

Now  the  cot  of  the  widow  Herries  was  a  bonny  place.  So 
I  believe,  but  of  its  beauty  I  will  not  speak.  For  I  never  was 
back  that  way  again  —  and  what  is  more,  I  never  mean  to  be. 

We  came  to  the  gavel  end  of  the  house.  Westerhall 
struck  it  with  his  sword. 

"  We'll  sune  hae  this  doon  !  "  he  said  to  us  that  followed. 
Then  louder  he  cried,  "Mistress,  are  ye  within?"  as  the 
custom  of  the  country  is. 

A  decent  woman  with  a  white  widow's  cap  on  her  head  was 
scraping  out  a  dish  of  hen's  meat  as  we  rode  to  the  door. 
When  she  saw  us  on  our  horses  about  the  close,  the  wooden 
bowl  fell  from  her  hands  and  played  clash  on  the  floor. 

"  Aye,  my  bonny  woman,"  quoth  Westerhall,  "  this  comes 

o'  keeping  Whigs  aboot  your  farm-toon.     Whatna  Whig 

rebel  was  it  ye  harboured  ?    Oot  wi't,  Bell  Allison  !    Was  it 

the  brither  o'  ye,  that  cursed  spawn  o'  the  low  country? 

F 


66  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Doon  on  your  knees  an'  tell  me,  else  it  is  your  last  hour  on 
the  earth." 

The  poor  woman  fell  on  her  knees  and  clasped  her 
hands. 

"  O  Westerha' !  "  she  stammered,  "  I'll  no  lee  till  ye.  It 
was  but  a  puir  Westland  man  that  we  kenned  not  the  name 
o'.  We  fand  him  i'  the  fields,  and  for  very  God's  pity 
brocht  him  hame  to  our  door  and  laid  him  on  the  bed.  He 
never  spak'  '  yea '  or  '  nay  '  to  us  all  the  time  he  abode  in 
our  hoose-place,  and  so  passed  without  a  word  late  yes- 
treen." 

"  Lying  Whig  !  "  cried  Westerhall,  "  who  was  it  that  found 
him?  Whatna  yin  o'  your  rebel  sons  —  chasing  up  hill 
and  doon  dale  after  your  blackguard  brither,  was  it  that 
brocht  him  hame?" 

"  I  kenna  wha  it  was  that  brocht  him.  It  was  a  wee  bit 
lass  that  fand  him  when  she  was  playin'  i'  the  moss  wi'  her 
brither." 

"  I  ken  your  wee  bit  lasses,"  said  Westerhall ;  "  she's  a 
bonny  sprig  o'  that  braw  plant  o'  grace,  Roger  Allison,  wha's 
heid  shall  yet  look  blythe  on  the  West  Port  o'  Edinburgh, 
wi'  yin  o'  his  cantin'  thief's  hands  on  ilka  side  o't." 

The  poor  woman  said  no  word,  but  out  from  the  chamber 
door  came  our  little  lass  of  yesterday  and  stood  beside  her. 

"Wha's  plaidie  is  this?"  again  quoth  Westerhall,  holding 
up  the  plaid  in  which  the  dead  man  had  been  wrapped,  like 
an  accusation  in  his  hand ;  "  to  the  hill,  boys,  and  lay  hand 
on  this  honest  woman's  honest  sons.  King  Charles  wull  hae 
something  to  say  to  them,  I'm  thinkin'." 

With  that  he  leapt  from  his  horse,  throwing  the  reins  to 
the  widow. 

"  Hae,  haud  my  horse,"  he  said,  "  an'  gin  ye  stir  an  inch, 
ye'll  get  an  ounce  o'  lead  in  you,  ye  auld  shakin'  limb  o' 
Sawtan." 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   BLOOD   OF  THE   MARTYRS. 

WITH  that,  like  a  loch  broken  loose,  Johnstone's  tail  of 
Annandale  thieves  rushed  within  the  house  and  dang  all 
things  here  and  there  at  their  liking.  Some  came  forth 
carrying  good  house  gear,  some  table  furniture,  and  some  the 
plenishing  of  bed  and  wardrobe.  They  turned  all  that  they 
could  not  carry  into  the  midst  of  the  floor  to  burn  at  their 
leisure.  They  drove  away  the  cattle  from  off  the  brae-face. 
They  gathered  the  widow's  poor  head  of  sheep  off  the  hill. 
And  all  the  time  Isobel  Herries  stood  trembling  for  her  lads 
and  holding  the  chief's  horse.  As  the  men  passed,  one 
after  another,  they  flung  words  at  her  that  will  not  bear 
writing  down.  And  I  was  glad  that  the  little  maid  who  stood 
by  with  her  brother  in  her  hand,  understood  not  their  import. 

When  all  was  done,  Westerhall  set  to  work  and  pulled 
down  the  whole  house,  for  the  rigging  and  walls  were  but  of 
baked  clay  and  crumbled  before  them.  Yet  the  poor 
woman  wailed  for  them  bitterly,  as  they  had  been  a 
palace. 

"  The  bonny  bit,  O  the  bonny  bit ! "  she  cried.  "  Where 
I  had  sic  a  sweet  bairn-time.  I  was  that  happy  wi'  a'  my 
tottlin'  weans  aboot  my  hand.  But  I  kenned  it  couldna 
last  —  it  was  ower  sweet  to  last." 

So  they  turned  her  out  to  the  bare  hillside  with  the  bairns 
in  her  hand.  It  did  not,  to  my  thinking,  make  the  case  any 
better  that  her  brother  was  a  rebel.  But  in  those  days  it 
was  treason  to  succour  the  living  or  honour  the  dead  —  ay, 

67 


68  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

even  if  they  had  lain  in  your  bed  and  stirred  in  your  side. 
It  was  forbidden  on  pain  of  death  to  give  them  so  much  as 
a  bed  or  a  meal  of  meat.  For  such  was  the  decree  of  just 
and  pious  Charles,  King  at  Whitehall,  who  alone  had  the 
right  to  say  in  what  fashion  the  poor  ignorant  folk  of  Scot- 
land should  worship  the  God  of  their  fathers. 

We  had  not  ridden  far  after  leaving  the  house  a  heap  of 
ruins,  before  we  met  Claverhouse  and  his  troop,  riding  slow, 
with  a  prisoner  in  the  midst  of  them. 

"  What  luck  !  "  cried  he ;  "  good  sport  in  your  ain  coverts, 
Westerha'?" 

He  had  a  delicately  insolent  contempt  for  the  Johnstone 
that  set  well  on  him,  though  as  I  knew  well  he  could  be  as 
cold  and  bloody  as  any  of  them  when  the  humour  drove 
him.  Yet  mostly  he  killed  like  a  gentleman  after  all,  and 
not  like  a  border  horse  thief —  save  only  in  the  case  of  honest 
John  Brown  of  Priesthill. 

But  Westerhall  had  caught  sight  of  Clavers's  prisoner.  He 
rode  up  to  him  and  struck  him  a  buffet  in  the  face,  though 
the  lad's  hands  were  tied  before  him.  He  was  a  youth  of 
eighteen,  as  near  as  one  might  guess,  a  boy  of  a  pleasant  and 
ruddy  countenance,  such  as  one  may  chance  to  see  on  any 
brae-face  in  Scotland  where  there  are  sheep  feeding,  with  a 
staff  in  his  hand  and  a  dog  at  his  heels. 

"  My  Whiggie,  I  have  you  now,"  he  cried.  "  I'll  e'en 
learn  you  to  row  dead  rebels  in  your  plaidie,  and  harbour 
hill  preachers  on  my  land.  Could  I  get  at  your  brothers,  I 
declare  I  wadna  leave  a  HerriGB  birkie  on  the  lands  o' 
Westerha'.  Have  him  down,  men,"  he  cried,  "  and  shoot 
him  here." 

But  Clavers  interposed. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  he  is  now  my  prisoner.  Ride  ye  on  to 
Westerha' ;  and  there,  Johnstone,  I  shall  give  ye  a  present  of 
him  to  make  a  kirk  or  a  mill  of.  It'll  be  you  that  will  have 


THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  MARTYRS.  69 

to  pay  the  harbourage  cess  for  this  day's  work  at  ony 
gate  ! " 

So  to  Westerhall  Johnstone  rode,  very  gloomy  and  ill  at 
ease  —  for  the  black  dog  was  sitting  heavy  on  him  at  the 
thought  of  the  fine  anent  harbourers  of  rebels  being  found  on 
his  land.  Again  and  again  he  broke  out  on  the  poor  youth 
Andrew  Herries,  threatening  what  he  would  do  with  him 
when  he  got  him  to  Westerhall.  But  the  youth  never 
so  much  as  answered  back,  only  cast  down  his  head  and 
looked  on  the  moss  before  him.  Yet  he  walked  care- 
fully and  without  stumbling  as  one  that  takes  heed  to  his 
going. 

Now  at  a  bonny  spot  where  there  is  much  green  grass,  it 
so  happened  that  we  halted.  You  will  find  the  place  readily 
if  ever  you  pass  that  way.  It  is  just  on  that  tongue  of  land 
where  the  Rig  Burn  meets  the  Esk  Water  and  close  by  the 
house  of  Westerhall.  There,  where  the  Great  Hill  of  Sten- 
nies  Water  pushes  down  a  spur  to  the  water-side,  was  our 
halting  place.  Here,  as  soon  as  we  alighted  down,  Wester- 
hall passed  sentence  on  Andrew  Herries,  saying  that  he  had 
due  authority  from  the  Council  as  King's  Justicer  for  the 
parts  about  the  Esk  and  Annan. 

Claverhouse  was  noways  keen  for  the  lad's  shooting,  and 
strove  to  put  him  off.  Yet  he  was  not  over-earnest  in  the 
matter,  for  (as  he  often  said)  to  John  Graham  a  dead  Whig 
was  always  greatly  better  than  a  living. 

But  for  all  that,  he  waved  his  hand  and  cried  aloud : 

"  The  blood  of  this  poor  man,  Westerha',  be  upon  you.  I 
am  free  from  it." 

Nevertheless,  since  Westerhall  had  given  the  sentence  and 
for  example's  sake  it  could  not  be  departed  from,  Claver- 
house ordered  a  Highland  gentleman,  the  captain  of  a  free 
company  that  was  traversing  the  country  with  him,  to  shoot 
the  lad  and  get  it  over.  But  Donald  Dhu  cocked  his 


70  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

bonnet  till  the  eagle's  feather  in  it  stood  erect,  and  in  high 
dudgeon  drew  off  his  clansmen. 

"Hursel  cam'  frae  the  Heelants  to  fecht  men,  and  no 
to  be  pluff-pluffin'  poother  at  poor  lads  that  are  no  lang 
frae  the  mither's  milk." 

This  was  the  statement  of  Donald  Dhu,  and  I  that  had 
no  love  for  Highlandmen,  nor  any  cause  to  love  them,  re- 
membering the  hand  they  made  of  my  father's  house  of 
Earlstoun,  could  have  cheered  him  where  I  stood.  But  I 
remembered  the  errand  I  was  on,  and  for  my  mother's  sake 
forbore. 

"  What !  "  cried  Westerhall,  glowering  at  him  and  riding 
up  close,  as  if  to  strike  him,  "would  you  disobey  the 
General's  orders  ! " 

"Donald  Dhu  has  no  General  but  his  King,"  cried  the 
bold  Highlandman.  "Call  up  your  row-footed  messans, 
and  bid  them  do  your  nain  dirty  work." 

Then  Claverhouse,  who  of  all  things  loved  not  to  be  out- 
faced, ordered  him  peremptorily  to  obey. 

"  Indeed,  John  Graham,  hursel  will  fecht  ye  first  —  you 
and  a'  your  troop." 

Then  seeing  that  Clavers  was  about  to  raise  his  hand  in 
command,  as  though  to  take  him  unawares  — 

"  Claymores  !  "  suddenly  cried  Donald  Dhu,  and  behind 
him  fifty  Highland  brands  flashed  in  air  as  the  wild  clans- 
men threw  back  their  plaids  to  clear  the  sword-arm. 

"  This  I  shall  report  to  the  Privy  Council,"  said  Clavers 
very  gravely,  turning  on  him  a  black  and  angry  counte- 
nance. 

But  the  brave  Highlander  was  noways  affected. 

"  Hooch  ! "  he  said,  giving  his  fingers  a  snap,  "  a  fig  for 
your  Preevies  —  Donald  Dhu  wull  hae  small  notion  o* 
Preevy  Cooncils  on  Ben  Muick.  Gin  Preevies  come  to 
veesit  Donald  Dhu  on  Spey  side,  it's  just  hursel  that  wull 


THE  BLOOD  OF  THE  MARTYRS.  71 

be  the  prood  man  to  see  the  Preevies  —  aye,  or  you  yersel' 
either,  John  Graham  !  " 

,  Thus  much  Donald  Dhu,  and  he  was  a  good  man  and 
died  linking  down  the  brae  with  his  men  true,  behind 
John  Graham  at  Killiecrankie  hi  the  fulness  of  time  —  which 
was  better  work  than,  as  he  said,  "  pluff-pluffin'  poother  at 
puirlawlan  tykes." 

But  when  Westerhall  saw  that  the  Highland  birses  were 
up,  and  that  he  would  in  no  wise  obey  orders,  he  ordered 
some  of  his  own  scoundrels  to  do  the  thing.  For  his  black 
heart  was  set  on  the  shooting  of  the  lad. 

Then  I  could  endure  no  longer,  but  ran  forward  as  if  to 
save  him,  crying  out  to  them  that  he  was  innocent,  and  but 
a  lad  at  any  rate,  which  mightily  angered  Westerhall. 

"  Stell  up  the  yae  rebel  whelp  beside  the  other !  "  he 
said ;  and  I  believe  that  had  we  been  alone  with  the  Annan- 
dale  men,  they  would  have  done  it. 

But  Clavers  said  :  "  Let  be  !  Take  away  young  Earlstoun 
to  the  knowe-tap  !  " 

So  they  led  me  off,  fairly  girning  with  anger  and  impo- 
tence. For  once  I  longed  for  Sandy's  brute  strength  to 
charge  at  them  like  a  bull  with  the  head  down. 

"  Lochinvar !  "  I  cried,  as  they  forced  me  away.  "  To 
me,  Lochinvar ! " 

But,  alas  !  my  cousin  was  off  on  some  of  his  own  ploys, 
and  came  not  till  too  late.  As  you  shall  hear. 

Then  when  the  men  were  in  rank  to  fire,  Westerhall  bid 
Andrew  Herries  draw  down  his  blue  bonnet  over  his  eyes. 
But  he  was  a  lad  of  most  undaunted  courage,  and  though 
he  had  come  so  meekly  to  the  slaughter,  now  he  spoke  out 
boldly  enough. 

"  I  wad  raither  dee,"  he  said,  "  in  the  face  o'  a'  men  and 
the  plain  licht  o'  God.  I  hae  dune  nocht  to  make  me 
shamed  afore  my  death-bringers.  Though,  being  but  young, 


72  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

I  hae  but  little  testimony  to  gie,  an'  nae  great  experience  o* 
religion  to  speak  aboot.  The  end  has  come  ower  quick 
on  me  for  that ! " 

Then  they  asked  him,  as  was  their  custom,  if  he  had 
aught  to  say  before  sentence  should  take  effect  upon  him. 

"  Nocht  in  particular,"  he  said,  "  but  there's  a  book  here 
(and  he  pulled  a  little  Bible  out  of  his  breast)  that  you  an' 
me  will  be  judged  by.  I  wish  I  had  read  mair  earnestly  in 
*t  an'  profited  better  by  it.  But  at  ony  rate  I  aye  carried  it 
to  read  at  the  herdin',  and  my  time  has  been  cut  short." 

"  Make  haste,"  they  said,  "  we  haena  time  to  taigle 
wi'  ye." 

"  And  I  hae  as  little  desire  to  taigle  you,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
am  glad  that  I  didna  grudge  the  puir  Westland  man  my  best 
plaid  for  his  last  covering,  though  there  be  none  to  do  as 
muckle  for  me." 

The  fire  rang  out.  The  blue  wreaths  of  smoke  rose  level, 
and  there  on  the  green  sward,  with  his  face  to  the  sky,  and 
his  Bible  yet  in  his  hand,  lay  the  widow's  son,  Andrew 
Herries,  very  still. 

"  So  perish  all  the  King's  rebels,"  cried  Westerhall  loudly, 
as  it  were,  to  give  the  black  deed  a  colour  of  law. 

But  John  Graham  said  never  a  word,  only  lifted  his  hat 
and  then  rode  away  with  a  countenance  like  the  granite  stone 
of  the  mountain. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WE   RIDE   TO   EDINBURGH. 

WHEN  my  cousin  Lochinvar  heard  what  had  been  done  in 
the  matter  of  the  lad,  Andrew  Herries,  his  anger  burned 
fiercely  within  him.  He  sought  Westerhall  on  the  instant. 

"  Foul  Annandale  thief ! "  he  cried,  "  come  out  and  try 
the  length  of  thy  sword  on  the  heather.  Down  with  thee 
and  see  if  thou  canst  stand  up  to  a  man,  thou  great  stirk. 
'Tis  easy  putting  thy  wolfs  spite  on  helpless  bairns,  but  this 
sword-arm  shall  tickle  thy  midriff  to  an  unkenned  tune." 

But  Colonel  Graham  would  not  let  them  fight. 

"Aroint  thee,"  he  said  to  Lochinvar,  "  for  a  young  ruffler 
and  spitfire.  Well  may  they  call  thee  Wullcat.  But  you 
shall  not  decimate  my  troop,  or  I  must  put  you  in  irons, 
for  all  those  bright  eyes  which  the  ladies  love." 

Lochinvar  turned  to  him. 

"  Colonel  Graham,  did  you  yourself  not  say,  '  I  am  guilt- 
less of  this  poor  man's  life  ! '  So,  at  least,  I  have  been 
informed." 

Claverhouse  nodded  grimly.  It  was  not  a  weakness  he 
often  showed. 

"  Then  why  not  let  me  have  it  out  with  this  bairn-slayer  ? 
I  had  e'en  garred  the  guard  o'  my  sword  dirl  again  his 
ribs." 

In  another  the  boast  had  seemed  like  presumption,  but  so 
noble  a  sworder  was  Wat  Gordon  that  he  but  stated  a  truth- 
And  all  that  were  present  knew  it  for  such. 

"Westerhall  will  be  the  more  grateful  to  me,  in  that 
73 


74  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

case,"  said  Clavers,  "  but  hark  ye,  Lochinvar  !  there  must 
be  no  more  of  this.  Ye  would  reduce  the  number  of 
his  Majesty's  forces  effective  in  one  way.  The  Reverend 
Richard  Cameron  (with  whom  Providence  send  me  a  good 
and  swift  meeting)  in  another.  But  in  the  end  it  comes  to 
the  same  thing.  Now  I  opine,  it  will  fit  you  well  to  hie  to 
Edinburgh  with  despatches.  And  I  prithee  take  your  noble 
and  peaceful  cousin  of  Earlstoun  with  thee.  Gin  thou  canst 
exchange  him  there  for  his  brother  Sandy,  I  shall  be  the 
more  glad  to  see  thee  back." 

So  in  a  little  Wat  Gordon  and  I  (Hugh  Kerr  and  John 
Scarlet  being  with  us)  were  riding  with  Claverhouse's 
despatches  to  the  Privy  Council. 

Northward  we  travelled  through  infinite  rough  and  un- 
kindly places,  vexed  ever  with  a  bitter  wind  in  our  faces. 
As  we  passed  many  of  the  little  cot  houses  on  the  opposite 
hillsides,  we  would  see  a  head  look  suddenly  out  upon  us. 
Then  the  door  fell  open,  and  with  a  rush  like  wild  things 
breaking  from  their  dens,  a  father  and  a  son,  or  such-like, 
would  take  the  heather.  And  once,  even,  we  saw  the  black 
coat  of  a  preacher.  But  with  never  a  halt  we  went  on  our 
way,  sharp-set  to  reach  Edinburgh. 

As  we  went,  Wat  Gordon  spoke  to  me  of  the  great  ones 
of  the  town,  and  especially  of  the  Duchess  of  Wellwood, 
with  whom,  as  it  appeared,  he  was  high  in  favour.  But 
whether  honestly  or  no,  I  had  no  means  of  judging.  It  was 
passing  strange  for  me,  who  indeed  was  too  young  for  such 
love,  even  had  I  been  fitted  by  nature  for  it  —  to  hear  Wat 
speak  of  the  gallantry  of  the  great  ladies  of  the  Court,  and 
of  the  amorous  doings  at  Whitehall.  For  I  had  been  strictly 
brought  up  —  a  thing  which  to  this  day  I  do  not  regret,  for 
it  gives  even  ill-doing  a  better  relish.  But  in  these  times 
when  there  are  many  new-fangled  notions  about  the  upbring- 
ing of  children  and  the  manner  of  teaching  them,  I  ever 


WE  RIDE  TO  EDINBURGH.  75 

declare  I  do  not  know  any  better  way  than  that  which  my 
father  used.  Its  heads  and  particulars  were  three  —  the 
Shorter  Catechism  for  the  soul,  good  oatmeal  porridge  for 
the  inward  man  —  and  for  the  outward,  some  twigs  of  the 
bonny  birk,  properly  applied  and  that  upon  the  appointed 
place. 

So  that  to  hear  of  the  gay  French  doings  at  the  Court, 
which  by  Wat's  telling  were  greatly  copied  in  Edinburgh, 
was  to  me  like  beholding  the  jigging  and  coupling  of  puggy 
monkeys  in  a  cage  to  make  sport  for  the  vulgar. 

"The  Lord  keep  me  from  the  like  of  that!"  I  cried, 
when  he  had  told  me  of  a  ploy  that  my  Lady  Castlemaine 
and  my  pretty  Mistress  Stuart  had  carried  through  together 
—  the  point  of  which  was  that  these  two  quipsome  dames 
were  wedded,  like  man  and  wife,  and  eke  bedded  before  the 
Court. 

And  at  this  Wat  Gordon,  who  had  not  much  humour  at 
the  most  of  times,  turned  on  me  with  a  quizzical  look  on 
his  face,  saying,  "  I  think  you  are  in  no  great  danger,  Cousin 
William." 

Which  I  took  not  ill,  for  at  that  time  I  cared  not  a  jot 
about  the  appearance  of  my  body,  nor  for  any  lady's  favour 
in  the  land. 

When  we  reached  Edinburgh,  I  went  immediately  to 
decent  lodgings  in  the  West  Bow,  to  which  I  had  been 
directed  by  my  mother ;  but  Walter,  saying  that  the  West 
Bow  was  no  fit  lodging  for  a  gentleman,  went  on  to  settle 
himself  in  one  of  the  fashionable  closes  off  the  Lawnmarket. 

As  soon  as  we  were  by  ourselves,  my  man,  Hugh  Kerr, 
came  to  me,  and  began  to  ask  if  I  knew  anything  of  John 
Scarlet,  the  serving  man  that  accompanied  my  cousin. 

I  replied  that  I  knew  nothing  of  him,  save  that  my  cousin 
had  past  all  endurance  cried  him  up  to  me  as  a  mighty 
sworder. 


76  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  Weel,"  said  Hugh  Kerr,  "  it  may  be,  but  it's  my  opeen- 
ion  that  he  is  a  most  mighty  leer,  an'  a  great  scoundrel 
forbye." 

I  asked  him  why,  and  at  the  first  go-off  he  would  give  me 
no  better  answer  than  that  he  opined  that  his  name  was  not 
John  Scarlet  but  John  Varlet,  as  better  denoting  a  gentle- 
man of  his  kidney. 

But  when  I  pressed  him,  he  told  me  that  this  serving 
man  had  told  him  that  he  had  committed  at  least  half-a- 
dozen  murders  —  which  he  called  slaughters  and  justified, 
that  he  had  been  at  nigh  half  a  hundred  killings  in  the 
fields,  yet  that  he  could  pray  like  Mr.  Kid  himself  at  a 
Societies'  Meeting,  and  be  a  leader  among  the  hill-folk 
when  it  seemed  good  to  him. 

"An*  the  awesome  thing  o't  a'  is  that  the  ill  deil  declared 
that  he  had  half-a-dizzen  wives,  and  that  he  could  mainteen 
the  richts  o'  that  too.  So  I  reasoned  with  him,  but  faith  ! 
the  scoundrel  had  the  assurance  to  turn  my  flank  wi' 
Abraham  and  the  patriarchs.  He  said  that  he  wadna  cast 
up  Solomon  to  me,  for  he  wasna  just  prepared  to  uphaud 
the  lengths  that  Solomon  gaed  to  i'  the  maitter  o'  wives." 

But  I  told  Hugh  to  give  his  mind  no  concern  about  the 
sayings  or  doings  of  Master  John  Scarlet  or  Varlet,  for  that 
it  was  all  most  likely  lies ;  and  if  not,  neither  he  nor  I  was 
the  man's  master,  to  whom  alone  he  stood  or  fell. 

But  for  all  that  I  could  see  that  Hughie  was  much  dashed 
by  his  encounter  with  my  cousin's  follower,  for  Hughie 
accounted  himself  a  great  hand  at  the  Scripture.  We  heard 
afterwards  that  John  Scarlet  had  been  a  sometime  follower 
of  Muckle  John  Gib,  and  that  it  was  in  his  company  that  he 
learned  notions,  which  is  a  thing  exceedingly  likely.  But 
this  was  before  Anton  Lennox  of  the  Duchrae  took  John  in 
hand  and  sorted  him  to  rights,  that  day  in  the  moss  of  the 
Deer-Slunk  between  Lowthian  and  Lanark. 


WE  RIDE  TO  EDINBURGH.  77 

Then  with  my  cousin's  interest  to  back  me,  and  espe- 
cially that  which  he  made  with  the  Duchess  of  Wellwood,  I 
wore  out  the  winter  of  the  year  1679  m  petitions  and  em- 
bassies, praying  that  the  estates  should  not  be  taken  from  us, 
and  biding  all  the  time  in  my  lodging  in  the  West  Bow.  I 
had  James  Stewart,  then  in  hiding,  to  make  out  my  pleas, 
and  right  ably  he  drew  them.  It  was  a  strong  point  in  our 
favour  that  my  father  had  not  been  killed  at  Bothwell,  but 
only  when  advancing  in  the  direction  of  the  combatants.  And 
besides,  I  myself  had  bidden  at  home,  and  not  ridden  out 
with  the  others.  As  for  Sandy,  he  had  not  the  chance  of  a 
lamb  in  the  wolfs  maw,  having  been  on  the  field  itself  with 
a  troop ;  so  I  stood  for  my  own  claim,  meaning  with  all  my 
very  heart  to  do  right  by  my  elder  brother  when  the  time 
came  —  though,  indeed,  I  had  but  small  reason  to  love  him 
for  his  treatment  of  me.  Yet  for  all  that,  I  shall  never  say 
but  what  he  was  a  stupid,  honest  lown  enough. 

Mayhap  if  he  had  been  other  than  my  brother,  I  had 
loved  him  better  j  but  he  tortured  me  as  thoughtlessly  when 
I  was  a  weakly  lad  as  if  I  had  been  a  paddock  or  a  fly,  till  the 
instinct  of  dislike  infected  my  blood.  And  after  that  there 
could  be  no  hope  of  liking,  hardly  of  tolerance.  This  is  the 
reason  of  most  of  the  feuds  among  brothers  the  world  over. 
For  it  is  the  fact,  though  there  are  few  fathers  that  suspect 
it,  that  many  elder  brothers  make  the  lives  of  the  youngers 
a  burden  too  heavy  to  be  borne  —  which  thing,  together 
with  marrying  of  wives,  in  after  years  certainly  works 
bitterness. 

More  than  anything,  it  struck  me  as  strange  that  my 
cousin  Lochinvar  could  make  merry  in  the  very  city — where 
but  a  few  months  before  his  father  had  been  executed  and 
done  to  death.  But  Hughie  Kerr  told  me  one  evening, 
when  we  were  going  over  Glenkens  things,  how  Wat's  father 
had  used  him  —  keeping  him  at  the  strap's  end.  For  Wat 


78  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

was  ever  his  mother's  boy,  who  constantly  took  his  part  as 
he  needed  it,  and  made  a  great  cavalier  and  King's  man  of 
him.  This  his  father  tried  to  prevent  and  drive  out  of  him 
with  blows,  till  the  lad  fairly  hated  him  and  his  Covenants. 
And  so  it  was  as  it  was.  For  true  religion  comes  not  by 
violence,  but  chiefly,  I  think,  from  being  brought  up  with 
good  men,  reverencing  their  ways  and  words. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WULLCAT  WAT  DARES  HEAVEN  AND  HELL. 

IT  was  about  the  end  of  February,  when  the  days  are 
beginning  to  creep  out  quickly  from  their  shortest,  that 
my  aunt,  the  Lady  Lochinvar,  came  to  town.  I,  that 
asked  only  meat  and  house-room,  companied  not  much 
with  the  braver  folk  who  sought  the  society  of  my  cousin 
of  Lochinvar.  Wat  glanced  here  and  there  in  some  new 
bravery  every  day,  and  I  saw  him  but  seldom.  However, 
my  lady  aunt  came  to  see  me  when  she  had  been  but  three 
days  in  town.  For  she  was  punctilious  about  the  claims  of 
blood  and  kinship,  which,  indeed,  women  mostly  think  much 
more  of  than  do  men. 

"A  good  morning,  cousin,"  said  she,  "and  how  speeds 
the  suit?" 

Then  I  told  her  somewhat  of  the  law's  delays  and  how  I 
had  an  excellent  lawyer,  albeit  choleric  and  stormy  in 
demeanour,  —  one  of  mine  own  name,  Mr.  William  Gordon, 
though  his  pleas  were  drawn  by  James  Stewart,  presently  in 
hiding.  What  Gordon  said  went  down  well  with  my  Lords 
of  the  Council  meeting  in  Holyrood,  for  he  was  a  great 
swearer  and  damned  freely  in  his  speech.  But  Hugh  Wal- 
lace, that  was  the  King's  cash-keeper,  claimed  the  fine 
because  that  my  father  was  a  heritor  —  conform  to  the  Acts 
of  Parliament  made  against  these  delinquencies  and  con- 
venticles in  1670  and  1672,  appointing  the  fines  of  heritors 
being  transgressors  to  come  into  the  treasury.  But  Sir 
George  Mackenzie  said,  "  If  this  plea  be  not  James  Stewart's 

79 


80  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

drawing  I  have  no  skill  of  law.  Tell  me,  Gordon,  gin  ye 
drew  this  yourseF  or  is  James  Stewart  in  Scotland  ?  " 

Then  my  lady  of  Lochinvar  asked  of  me  when  I  thought 
my  matters  might  be  brought  to  an  end. 

" That  I  know  not,"  said  I ;  "it  seems  slow  enough." 

"  All  law  is  slow,  save  that  which  my  man  and  your  father 
got,"  said  she. 

I  was  astonished  that  she  should  mention  her  man,  with 
that  courage  and  countenance,  and  the  story  not  six  months 
old ;  indeed,  his  very  head  sticking  on  the  Netherbow,  not 
a  mile  from  us  as  we  talked.  But  she  saw  some  part  of  this 
in  my  face,  and  quickly  began  to  say  on. 

"  You  Gordons  never  think  you  die  honest  unless  you  die 
in  arms  against  the  King.  But  ye  stand  well  together,  though 
your  hand  is  against  every  other  man.  And  that  is  why  I, 
that  am  but  a  tacked-on  Gordon,  come  to  help  you  if  so 
be  I  can ;  though  I  and  my  boy  stand  for  the  King,  and  you 
and  your  rebel  brother  Sandy  for  the  Covenants.  Weary 
fa'  them  —  that  took  my  man  from  me  —  for  he  was  a  good 
man  to  me,  though  we  agreed  but  ill  together  concerning 
kings  and  politics." 

"  Speak  for  my  brother  Sandy,"  I  said,  "  I  am  no  strong 
sufferer,  and  so  shall  get  me,  I  fear  me,  no  golden  garments." 

Thus  I  spoke  in  my  ignorance,  for  the  witty  lown-warm  air 
of  Edinburgh  in  spiritual  things  had  for  the  time  being  in- 
fected me  with  opinions  like  those  of  the  Laodicians. 

Now  this  was  a  favourite  overword  of  my  mother's,  that 
suffering  was  the  Christian's  golden  garment.  But  to  my 
aunt,  to  whom  religion  was  mostly  family  tradition  (or  so 
I  thought),  I  might  as  well  have  spoken  of  fried  fish. 

"  But  concerning  Walter,"  she  went  on,  as  one  that  comes 
to  a  real  subject  after  beating  about  the  bush,  "  tell  me  of 
him.  You  have  been  here  with  him  in  this  city  the  best  part 
of  three  months." 


WULLCAT  WAT  DARES  HEAVEN  AND  HELL.        81 

Now  indeed  I  saw  plainly  enough  what  it  was  that  had 
procured  me  the  honour  of  a  visit  so  early  from  my  lady 
of  Lochinvar. 

"In  this  city  I  have  indeed  been,  my  aunt,"  I  replied, 
"but  not  with  Walter.  For  I  am  not  Lord  of  Lochinvar, 
but  only  the  poor  suitor  of  the  King's  mercy.  And  I  spent 
not  that  which  I  have  not,  nor  yet  can  I  afford  further  to 
burden  the  estate  which  may  never  be  mine." 

She  waved  her  hand  as  at  a  Whig  scruple,  which  good 
King's  folk  made  light  of. 

"  But  what  of  Walter  —  you  have  seen  —  is  it  well  with 
the  lad?" 

She  spoke  eagerly  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

But  after  all  the  business  was  not  mine,  and  besides,  a 
Gordon  —  Covenant  or  no  Covenant  —  is  no  tale-piet,  as 
my  lady  might  well  have  known. 

"Wat  Gordon,"  said  I,  "is  the  gayest  and  brightest 
young  spark  in  town,  like  a  Damascus  blade  for  mettle,  and 
there  are  none  that  love  not  his  coming,  and  grieve  not  at 
his  going." 

"  Ay  —  ladies,  that  I  ken,"  said  my  aunt.  "  What  of  my 
LadyWellwood?" 

Now  I  had  a  very  clear  opinion  of  my  Lady  Wellwood, 
though  I  knew  her  not ;  for  indeed  she  would  not  have  waved 
the  back  of  her  lily  hand  to  me  in  the  street.  But  she  was  a 
handsome  woman,  and  I  admired  her  greatly  for  the  fair- 
ness of  her  countenance  as  she  went  by.  Besides,  the  busi- 
ness of  Wat  and  my  Lady  Wellwood  was  none  of  mine. 

"  My  lady  is  in  truth  a  fine  woman,"  I  said  calmly,  look- 
ing up  as  if  I  were  saying  what  must  please  my  visitor. 
.  The  Lady  Lochinvar  struck  one  hand  on  the  other  hastily 
and  rose. 

"  Attend  me  home,"  she  said ;  "  I  see  after  all  that  you  are 
a  man,  and  so  must  defend  all  men  and  admire  all  women." 
G 


d2  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"The  last,  for  your  ladyship's  sake,  I  do,"  I  made  an- 
swer. For  in  those  days  we  were  taught  to  be  courteous  to 
the  elder  ladies,  and  to  make  them  becoming  compliments, 
which  is  in  danger  of  being  a  forgotten  art  in  these  petti- 
fogging times. 

"What  takes  you  to  the  Covenant  side?"  asked  Lady 
Lochinvar,  "Certes,  the  Falkland  dominie  had  not  made 
that  speech." 

"The  same  that  took  your  husband,  Lady  Lochinvar," 
I  returned,  somewhat  nettled.  For  she  spake  as  if  the 
many  honest  folk  in  Scotland  were  but  dirt  beneath  the 
feet  of  the  few.  But  that  was  ever  the  way  of  her  kind. 

"  Kenned  ye  ever  a  Gordon  that  would  be  driven  with 
whips  of  scorpions,  or  one  that  could  not  be  drawn  with 
the  light  of  ladies'  eyes?" 

She  sighed,  and  gathered  up  her  skirts. 

"  Ay,  the  last  all  too  readily,"  she  said,  thinking,  I  doubt 
not,  of  Walter  Gordon  and  my  lady  of  Wellwood. 

It  was  dusking  when  we  stepped  out.  My  aunt  took  my 
arm  and  desired  that  we  should  walk  home,  though  already  I 
had  called  a  chair  for  her.  So  we  went  up  the  narrow, 
dirty  street  and  came  slowly  to  her  lodgings.  Walter  met 
us  on  the  stair  of  the  turnpike.  He  was  shining  in  silk  and 
velvet  as  was  recently  his  constant  wont.  Lace  ruffles  were 
at  his  wrists.  He  had  a  gold  chain  about  his  neck,  and  a 
jewelled  rapier  flashed  and  swung  in  a  gold-broidered  velvet 
sheath  at  his  side. 

He  seemed  no  little  dashed  by  our  coming  in  together. 
I  quickly  understood  that  he  had  thought  his  mother  safely 
out  of  the  way,  and  wondered  how  I  should  keep  the  peace 
between  them.  For  by  the  tremble  of  her  hand  on  my  arm 
I  felt  that  the  storm  was  nigh  the  breaking. 

Yet  for  all  that  he  stopped  and  kissed  her  dutifully,  stand- 
ing on  the  step  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  to  let  her  pass  within. 


WULLCAT  WAT  DARES   HEAVEN   AND   HELL.        83 

The  flickering  light  of  the  cruisie  lamp  in  the  stairhead  fell 
on  him,  and  I  thought  he  had  the  noblest  figure  of  a  youth 
that  ever  my  eyes  had  rested  upon. 

But  his  mother  would  not  let  him  go. 

"Attend  me  to  my  chamber,  Walter,"  she  said.  "I  have 
that  concerning  which  I  would  speak  with  you." 

So  we  went  upward,  turning  and  twisting  up  the  long 
stairs,  till  we  came  to  the  door  where  my  lady  lodged.  She 
tirled  fretfully  at  the  pin,  the  servant-maid  opened,  and  we 
went  within.  The  window  stood  wide  to  give  a  draft  to  the 
fire  of  wood  that  burned  on  the  firegrate.  I  went  over  to 
close  it,  and,  as  I  did  so,  a  broad  flake  of  snow  swirled  down, 
and  lay  melting  on  my  wrist.  It  told  me  that  it  was  to  be 
a  wild  night  —  the  last  snowstorm  of  the  year,  belike. 

My  lady  came  back  from  her  own  bed-chamber  in  a 
moment.  She  had  merely  laid  aside  her  plaid,  waiting  not 
to  change  her  gown  lest  her  son  should  be  gone. 

Walter  Gordon  stood  discontentedly  enough  at  the  side  of 
the  firegrate,  touching  the  glowing  embers  with  his  French 
shoe,  careless  of  how  he  burnt  it. 

"  Walter,"  said  my  aunt,  "  will  you  not  pleasure  us  with 
your  company  to-night?" 

"  I  cannot,  my  lady,"  said  Lochinvar,  without  looking  up ; 
"  I  have  made  an  engagement  elsewhere." 

He  spoke  baldly  and  harshly,  as  one  that  puts  a  restraint 
on  himself. 

His  mother  looked  at  him  with  her  eyes  like  coals  from 
which  the  leaping  flame  has  just  died  out.  For  a  moment 
she  said  nothing,  but  the  soul  within  her  flamed  out  of  the 
windows  of  her  house  of  clay,  fiery  and  passionate.  It  had 
come  to  the  close  and  deadly  pinch  with  her,  and  it  was  on 
the  dice's  throw  whether  she  would  lose  or  keep  her  son. 

"Walter  Gordon,"  she  said  at  last,  "has  your  mother 
journeyed  thus  far  to  so  little  purpose,  that  now  she  is  here, 


84  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

you  will  not  do  her  the  honour  to  spend  a  single  night  in  her 
company?  Since  when  has  she  become  so  distasteful  to 
you?" 

"  Mother,"  said  Wat,  moved  in  spite  of  himself,  "  you  do 
not  yourself  justice  when  you  speak  so.  I  would  spend 
many  nights  with  you,  for  all  my  love  and  service  are  yours ; 
but  to-night  I  cannot  fail  to  go  whither  I  have  promised 
without  being  mansworn  and  tryst-breaker.  And  you  have 
taught  me  that  the  Gordons  are  neither." 

"Wat,"  she  said,  hearing  but  not  heeding  his  words,  "bide 
you  by  me  to-night.  There  be  sweet  maids  a  many  that  will 
give  their  lives  for  you.  You  are  too  young  for  such  questing 
and  companionry.  Go  not  to  my  Lady  Wellwood  to-night. 

0  do  not,  my  son !     Tis  your  mother  that  makes  herself  a 
beggar  to  you  ! " 

At  the  name  of  my  Lady  Wellwood  Walter  Gordon  started 
from  his  place  as  though  he  had  been  stung  and  glanced 
over  at  me  with  a  sudden  and  fiery  anger. 

"  If  my  cousin " 

But  I  kept  my  eyes  clear  upon  him,  as  full  of  fire  mayhap 
as  his  own.  And  even  in  that  moment  I  saw  the  thought 
pass  out  of  his  mind  in  the  uncertain  firelight. 

"Your  cousin  has  told  me  nothing,  though  I  deny  not 
that  I  asked  him,"  said  my  lady  curtly.  "  Young  men  hang 
together,  like  adder's  eggs.  But  Wat,  dear  Wat,  will  you 
not  put  off  your  gay  apparelling  and  take  a  night  at  the 
cartes  with  us  at  home.  See,  the  fire  is  bright  and  the  lamp 
ready.  It  will  be  a  wild  night  without  presently  ! " 

"To-morrow,  mother,  to-morrow  at  e'en  shall  be  the 
night  of  my  waiting  upon  you.  To-night,  believe  me,  I 
cannot  —  though,  because  you  ask  me,  with  all  my  heart 

1  would  that  I  could." 

Then  his  mother  rose  up  from  her  seat  by  the  fire,  and 
went  up  to  him.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  looked 
into  his  eyes. 


WULLCAT  WAT  DARES   HEAVEN   AND   HELL.        85 

"  O  Walter,  my  boy,  go  not  forth  to-night  "  —  (here  I  de- 
clare to  God  the  proud  woman  knelt  to  her  own  son) 

"  See,  I  have  put  off  my  pride,  and  I  pray  you  not  to  go 
for  my  sake  —  for  your  mother's  sake,  that  never  denied  you 
anything.  There  is  evil  boding  in  the  air." 

She  shuddered  and,  in  rising,  threw  an  arm  over  his  shoul- 
der, as  though  she  had  been  his  sweetheart  and  were  fleech- 
ing  with  him. 

For  a  moment  I  saw  Wat  Gordon  waver.  Then  he  took 
her  hand  gently  and  drew  it  down  from  his  shoulder. 

"  Mother,  for  you  I  would  do  all,  save  set  a  stain  upon 
my  honour.  But  this  thing  I  cannot,  for  I  have  plighted 
my  word  deep  and  fast,  and  go  I  must  to-night." 

"Tell  me,"  said  my  aunt,  "is  it  a  matter  of  treason  to 
the  King?" 

Her  eyes  were  eager,  expectant.  And  for  very  pity  of 
her  I  hoped  that  Walter  could  give  her  satisfaction  on  the 
point.  But  it  was  not  as  I  thought,  for  who  can  track  a 
woman's  heart  ? 

"  God  forbid,"  said  Wat  Gordon  heartily,  as  one  that  is 
most  mightily  relieved. 

But  his  mother  fell  back  and  her  hands  dropped  to  her 
side. 

"Then,"  she  said,  "it  is  my  Lady  Wellwood!  — I  had 
rather  a  thousand  times  it  had  been  treason  and  rebellion 
—  aye,  though  it  had  set  your  head  on  high  beside  your 
father's." 

"  Lady  Wellwood  or  another  !  "  cried  Wat,  "  nor  heaven 
nor  hell  shall  gar  me  break  my  tryst  this  nicht ! " 

And  without  another  word  Walter  Gordon  went  down  the 
stairs  as  one  that  runs  defiantly  to  death,  daring  both  God 
and  man  —  and,  alas  !  the  mother  also  that  bore  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  THING  THAT   FELL   FROM   TRAITOR'S    GATE. 

THE  Lady  Lochinvar  stood  a  moment  still  by  the  fire,  listen- 
ing, her  hand  raised  as  if  to  command  silence.  Then  she 
ran  to  the  door  like  a  young  lass,  with  a  light  foot  and  her 
hand  on  her  heart.  The  steps  came  fainter  up  the  stair, 
and  in  another  moment  we  heard  the  clang  of  the  outer 
door. 

My  lady  turned  to  me. 

"Have  you  your  pistols  by  you?"  she  whispered  in  a 
hoarse  and  angry  voice,  clutching  me  by  the  lapels  of  my 
coat.  "  Go,  man !  Go,  follow  him  !  He  rushes  to  his 
death.  And  he  is  all  that  I  have.  Go  and  save  him  ! " 

She  that  had  fleeched  with  her  son,  like  a  dove  succour- 
ing its  young,  laid  harshly  her  commands  upon  me. 

"  I  am  no  fighter,  aunt,"  I  said.  "  What  protection  can  I 
be  to  Walter  Gordon,  the  best  sworder  in  Edinburgh  town 
this  night  from  Holyrood  to  the  Castle  ?  " 

My  lady  looked  about  her  as  one  that  sees  a  stealthy 
enemy  approach.  Her  hand  trembled  as  she  laid  it  on 
my  arm. 

"What  avails  good  swordsmanship,  when  one  comes 
behind  and  one  before,  as  in  my  dream  I  saw  them  do 
upon  my  Walter,  out  of  the  house  of  my  Lord  Wellwood. 
They  came  upon  him  and  left  him  lying  on  the  snow. — 
Ah,  go,  dear  cousin  William  ! "  she  said,  breaking  into  a 
sharp  cry  of  entreaty  lest  I  should  fail  her.  "  It  is  you  that 
can  save  him.  But  let  him  not  see  you  follow,  or  it  will 

86 


THE  THING  THAT  FELL  FROM  TRAITOR'S   GATE.     87 

make  him  more  bitter  against  me.  For  if  you  cannot  play 
with  the  sword,  you  can  shoot  with  the  pistol ;  so  I  have 
heard,  and  they  tell  me  that  no  one  can  shoot  so  truly  as 
thou.  They  would  not  let  thee  shoot  at  Kirkcudbright  for 
the  Siller  Gun  though  thou  art  a  burgess,  because  it  were 
no  fair  game.  Is  it  not  true  ?  " 

And  so  she  stroked  and  cuitled  me  with  flattery  till  I 
declare  I  purred  like  our  Gib  cat.  I  had  begun  there  and 
then  to  tell  her  of  my  prowess,  but  that  she  interrupted  me. 

"  He  goes  toward  the  High  Street.  Hasten  up  the  South 
Wynd,  and  you  will  overtake  him  yet  ere  he  comes  out  upon 
the  open  road." 

She  thrust  two  pistols  into  my  belt,  which  I  laid  aside 
again,  having  mine  own  more  carefully  primed  with  me,  to 
the  firing  of  which  my  hand  was  more  accustomed  —  and 
that  to  a  marksman  is  more  than  half  the  battle. 

When  I  reached  the  street  the  wildness  of  the  night  justi- 
fied my  prophecy.  The  snow  was  falling  athwart  the  town 
in  broad  wet  flakes,  driving  flat  against  the  face  with  a  splash, 
before  a  gusty  westerly  wind  that  roared  among  the  tall  lums 
of  the  steep-gabled  houses  —  a  most  uncomfortable  night  to 
run  the  risk  of  getting  a  dirk  in  one's  ribs. 

I  saw  my  cousin  before  me,  linking  on  carelessly  through 
the  snow  with  his  cloak  about  his  ears  and  his  black-scab- 
bard rapier  swinging  at  his  heels. 

But  I  had  to  slink  behind  backs  like  a  Holyrood  dyvour 
—  a  bankrupt  going  to  the  Sanctuary,  jooking  and  cowering 
craftily  in  the  lee-side  shadow  of  the  houses.  For  though 
so  wild  a  night,  it  was  not  very  dark.  There  was  a  moon  up 
there  somewhere  among  the  smother,  though  she  could  not 
get  so  much  as  her  nose  through  the  wrack  of  banked  snow- 
cloud  which  was  driving  up  from  the  west.  Yet  Wat  could 
have  seen  me  very  black  on  the  narrow  strip  of  snow,  had  he 
ever  once  thought  of  looking  over  his  shoulder.  . 


88  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

But  Wat  the  Wullcat  of  Lochinvar  was  not  the  one  to  look 
behind  him  when  he  strode  on  to  keep  tryst.  I  minded  his 
bitter  reckless  words  to  his  mother,  "  Heaven  and  hell  shall 
not  make  me  break  my  tryst  to-night !  "  Now  Heaven  was 
shut  out  by  the  storm  and  the  tall  close-built  houses,  and 
Walter  Gordon  had  an  excellent  chance  of  standing  a  bout 
with  the  other  place. 

No  doubt  my  Lady  Wellwood  bided  at  the  window  and 
looked  out  for  him  to  come  to  her  through  the  snow.  And 
I  that  had  for  common  no  thought  of  lass  or  lady,  cannot  say 
that  I  was  without  my  own  envying  that  the  love  of  woman 
was  not  for  me.  Or  so  at  least  I  thought  at  that  time,  even 
as  I  shielded  my  eyes  under  my  bonnet  and  drave  through 
the  snow  with  the  pistols  loose  in  my  belt.  But  Wat  of 
Lochinvar  walked  defiantly  through  the  black  storm  with  a 
saucy  swing  in  his  carriage,  light  and  careless,  which  I  vouch 
drew  my  heart  to  him  as  if  I  had  been  a  young  girl.  I  had 
given  ten  years  of  my  life  if  just  so  I  could  have  taken  the 
eyes  of  women. 

As  clear  as  if  I  had  listened  to  the  words,  I  could  hear 
him  saying  over  within  himself  the  last  sentence  he  had  used 
in  the  controversy  with  his  mother — "  Heaven  and  hell 
shall  not  cause  me  to  break  my  tryst  to-night ! " 

Alack !  poor  lad,  little  understood  he  the  resources  of 
either.  For  he  had  yet  to  pass  beneath  Traitor's  Gate. 

For  once  the  narrow  High  Street  of  Edinburgh  was 
clean  and  white  —  sheeted  down  in  the  clinging  snow  that 
would  neither  melt  nor  freeze,  but  only  clung  to  every  joint, 
jut,  stoop,  and  step  of  the  house-fronts,  and  clogged  in 
lumps  on  the  crockets  of  the  roof.  The  wind  wrestled  and 
roared  in  great  gusts  overhead  in  the  black,  uncertain, 
tumultuous  night.  Then  a  calm  would  come,  sudden  as 
a  curtain-drop  in  the  play-house,  and  in  the  hush  you  could 
hear  the  snow  sliddering  down  off  the  high-pitched  roofs 


THE  THING  THAT  FELL  FROM  TRAITOR'S  GATE.      89 

of  tile.  The  light  of  the  moon  also  came  in  varying  wafts 
and  flickers,  as  the  wind  blew  the  clouds  alternately  thicker 
and  thinner  across  her  face. 

Now  I  felt  both  traitor  and  spy  as  I  tracked  my  cousin 
down  the  brae.  Hardly  a  soul  was  to  be  seen,  for  none 
loves  comfort  more  than  an  Edinburgh  burgher.  And  none 
understands  his  own  weather  better.  The  snow  had 
swept  ill-doer  and  well-doer  off  the  street,  cleaner  than 
ever  did  the  city  guard  —  who,  by  the  way,  were  no  doubt 
warming  their  frozen  toes  by  the  cheerful  fireside  in  some 
convenient  house-of-call. 

So  meditating,  for  a  moment  I  had  almost  forgotten 
whither  we  were  going. 

Before  us,  ere  I  was  aware,  loomed  up  the  battlements 
and  turrets  of  the  Netherbow.  'Twas  with  a  sudden  stound 
of  the  heart,  that  I  remembered  what  it  was  that  ten  months 
and  more  ago  had  been  set  up  there.  But  I  am  sure  that, 
sharp-set  on  his  love  matter,  like  a  beast  that  hunts  nose- 
down  on  a  hot  trail,  Wat  Gordon  had  no  memory  for  the 
decorations  of  the  Netherbow.  For  he  whistled  as  he 
went,  and  stuck  his  hand  deeper  into  the  breast  of  his 
coat.  The  moon  came  out  as  I  looked,  and  for  a  moment, 
dark  and  grisly  against  the  upper  brightness,  I  saw  that  row 
of  traitors'  heads  which  the  city  folk  regarded  no  more  in 
their  coming  and  going,  than  the  stone  gargoyles  set  in  the 
roof-niches  of  St.  Giles. 

But  as  soon  as  Wat  went  under  the  blackness  of  the  arch, 
there  came  so  fierce  a  gust  that  it  fairly  lifted  me  off  my 
feet  and  dashed  me  against  the  wall.  Overhead  yelled  all 
the  mocking  fiends  of  hell,  riding  slack-rein  to  a  new 
perdition.  The  snow  swirled  tormented,  and  wrapped  us 
both  in  its  grey  smother.  Hands  seemed  to  pull  at  me  out 
of  the  darkness,  lifted  me  up,  and  flung  me  down  again  on 
my  face  in  the  smoor  of  the  snow.  A  great  access  of  fear 


90  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

fell  on  me.  As  the  gust  overpassed,  I  rose,  choked  and 
gasping.  Overhead  I  could  hear  the  mighty  blast  go  roar- 
ing and  howling  away  among  the  crags  and  rocks  of  Arthur's 
Seat. 

Then  I  arose,  shook  the  snow  from  my  dress,  glanced  at 
the  barrels  and  cocks  of  my  pistols  to  see  that  they  were 
not  stopped  with  snow,  and  stepped  out  of  the  angle  of  the 
Bow  to  look  after  my  cousin.  To  my  utter  astonishment, 
he  was  standing  within  four  feet  of  me.  He  held  some 
dark  thing  in  his  hand,  and  stared  open-mouthed  at  it,  as 
one  demented.  Without  remembering  that  I  had  come 
out  at  my  lady's  bidding  to  follow  Wat  Gordon  secretly,  I 
stepped  up  to  him  till  I  could  look  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Walter !  "  I  said,  putting  my  hand  on  his  arm. 

But  he  never  minded  me  in  the  least,  nor  yet  appeared 
surprised  to  find  me  there.  Only  a  black  and  bitter  horror 
sat  brooding  on  his  soul. 

He  continued  to  gaze,  fascinated,  at  the  dark  thing  in 
his  hand. 

"  GOD  —  GOD  —  GOD  !  "  he  sobbed,  the  horror  taking  him 
short  in  the  throat.  "Will,  do  you  see  THIS?  " 

Such  abject  terror  never  have  I  heard  before  nor  since 
in  the  utterance  of  any  living  man. 

"  Do  you  see  This  ?  "  he  said.  "  See  what  fell  at  my  feet 
as  I  came  through  the  arch  of  the  Bow  upon  mine  errand ! 
The  wind  brought  it  down." 

Above  the  moon  pushed  her  way  upwards,  fighting  hard, 
breasting  the  cloud  wrack  like  a  labouring  ship. 

Her  beams  fell  on  the  dark  Thing  in  Wat  Gordon's 
hand. 

"  GREAT  GOD  ! "  he  shouted  again,  his  eyes  starting  from 
their  sockets,  "IT  is  MINE  OWN  FATHER'S  HEAD!" 

And  above  us  the  fitful,  flying  winds  nichered  and 
laughed  like  mocking  fiends. 


THE  THING  THAT  FELL  FROM  TRAITOR'S  GATE.     91 

It  was  true.  I  that  write,  saw  it  plain.  I  held  it  in 
this  very  hand.  It  was  the  head  of  Sir  John  of  Lochin- 
var,  against  whom,  in  the  last  fray,  his  own  son  had 
donned  the  war-gear.  Grizzled,  black,  the  snow  cleaving 
ghastly  about  the  empty  eye-holes,  the  thin  beard  still 
straggling  snow-clogged  upon  the  chin  —  it  was  his  own 
father's  head  that  had  fallen  at  Walter  Gordon's  feet, 
and  which  he  now  held  in  his  hand. 

Then  I  remembered,  with  a  shudder  of  apprehension,  his 
own  words  so  lately  spoken  —  "  Heaven  and  hell  shall  not 
cause  me  to  break  my  tryst  to-night." 

Walter  Gordon  stood  rooted  there,  dazed  and  dumb- 
foundered,  with  the  Thing  in  his  hand.  His  fine  lace 
ruffles  touched  it  as  the  wind  blew  them. 

I  plucked  at  him. 

"Come,"  I  said,  "haste  you!  Let  us  bury  it  in  the 
Holyrood  ere  the  moon  goes  down." 

Thus  he  who  boasted  himself  free  of  heaven  and  hell, 
had  his  tryst  broken  by  the  Thing  that  fell  from  the  ghastly 
gate  on  which  the  traitors'  heads  are  set  in  a  row.  And 
that  Thing  was  the  head  of  the  father  that  begat  him. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   BICKER  IN   THE   SNOW. 

THEN,  seeing  Walter  Gordon  both  agitated  and  uncertain 
which  way  to  turn,  I  took  out  of  his  shaking  hands  the  poor 
mishandled  head,  wrapping  it  in  my  plaid,  and  so  led  the 
way  down  the  Canongate  towards  the  kirkyard  of  the  Chapel 
of  Holyroodhouse,  where  it  seemed  to  me  most  safe  to  bury 
the  Thing  that  had  fallen  in  such  marvellous  fashion  at  our 
feet  that  night. 

The  place  I  knew  well  enough.  I  had  often  meditated 
there  upon  the  poor  estate  of  our  house.  It  was  half  ruin- 
ous, and  I  looked  to  meet  with  no  man  within  the  precincts 
on  such  a  night.  But  short,  deceiving,  and  ostrich-blind 
are  all  our  hopes,  for  by  going  that  way  I  brought  us  into 
the  greatest  danger  we  could  possibly  have  been  in. 

For,  as  we  came  by  the  side  port  of  Holyroodhouse,  and 
took  the  left  wynd  which  leads  to  the  kirkyard,  it  seemed 
that  I  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  coming  after  me.  It 
was  still  a  night  of  snow,  but  the  blast  of  flakes  was  wear- 
ing thinner  and  the  wind  less  gusty.  The  moon  was  wading 
among  great  white-edged  wreaths  as  though  the  snows  had 
been  driven  right  up  to  heaven  and  were  clogging  the  skies. 

It  was  I  who  led,  for  my  cousin,  Wat  Gordon,  being 
stopped  dead  in  his  heart's  desire,  like  a  dog  quivering 
for  the  leap  that  suddenly  gets  his  death-wound,  now  went 
forward  as  one  blind,  and  staggered  even  in  the  plain 
places.  Also,  it  was  well  that  I  must  guide  him,  for  thus 
I  was  kept  from  thinking  of  the  horrid  burden  I  carried. 

92 


THE  BICKER  IN  THE  SNOW.  93 

We  were  at  the  angle  of  the  wall,  and  going  slowly  down 
among  the  cumbering  heaps  of  rubbish  by  the  dyke-side, 
when  I  certainly  heard,  through  the  soughing  of  the  wind, 
and  the  soft  swirl  of  the  snow-flakes,  the  quick  trampling 
of  footsteps  behind  us.  It  seemed  to  me  that  they  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  Queen's  Bathhouse,  by  which,  as 
I  now  minded,  my  Lord  Wellwood  had  built  his  new  house. 

I  turned  in  my  tracks,  and  saw  half  a  dozen  of  fellows 
running  towards  us  with  their  swords  drawn;  and  one  who 
seemed  short  of  stature  and  ill  at  the  running,  following 
after  them.  Then  I  pulled  quickly  at  Walter's  sleeve,  and 
said: 

"  Get  you  to  a  good  posture  of  defence,  or  we  are  both 
dead  men.  See  behind  you !  " 

At  this  he  turned  and  looked,  and  the  sight  seemed 
wonderfully  to  steady  him.  He  seemed  to  come  to  him- 
self with  a  kind  of  joy.  I  heard  him  sigh  as  one  that  casts 
off  a  heavy  back-burden.  For  blows  were  ever  mightily 
refreshing  to  Wat  Gordon's  spirits,  even  as  water  of 
Cologne  is  to  a  mim-mouthed,  spoiled  beauty  of  the  court. 

As  for  me,  I  had  no  joy  in  blows,  and  little  skill  in 
them,  so  that  my  delight  was  small.  Indeed,  I  felt  the 
lump  rise  in  my  throat,  and  my  mouth  dried  with  fear.  So 
that  I  could  hardly  keep  the  tears  from  running,  being 
heartily  sorry  for  myself  because  I  should  never  see  bonny 
Earlstoun  and  my  mother  again,  or  any  one  else  in  the 
pleasant  south  country  —  and  all  on  a  business  that  I 
had  no  concern  with,  being  only  some  night-hawk  trokings 
of  Wat  Gordon's. 

But  even  as  he  glanced  -about  him,  Lochinvar  saw  where 
we  could  best  engage  them;  for  in  such  things  he  had  the 
captain's  eye,  swift  and  inevitable.  It  was  at  the  angle  of 
the  wall,  in  which  is  a  wide  archway  that  leads  into  the 
enclosure  of  the  Palace.  The  snow  had  drifted  round  this 


94  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

arch  a  great  sweep  of  rounded  wreaths,  and  glistened 
smoothly  white  in  the  moonbeams,  but  the  paved  gateway 
itself  was  blown  clear.  Wat  thrust  me  behind  him,  and, 
throwing  down  his  cloak,  cleared  his  sword  arm  with  a  long 
sobbing  intake  of  breath,  which,  having  a  certain  great  con- 
tent in  it,  was  curious  to  hear. 

I  stood  behind  him  in  the  dark  of  the  archway,  and  there 
I  first  laid  down  my  ghastly  burden  in  the  corner,  wrap- 
ping it  in  my  cloak.  I  made  my  pistols  ready,  and  also 
loosened  in  my  belt  a  broad  Italian  dagger,  shaped  like  a 
leaf,  wherewith  I  meant  to  stick  and  thrust  if  any  should 
attempt  to  run  in  while  I  was  standing  on  guard.  Between 
me  and  the  light  I  could  see  Walter  Gordon,  armed  in  the 
German  fashion,  with  his  rapier  in  one  hand  and  his  dag- 
ger in  the  other.  Suddenly,  through  the  hush  of  waiting, 
came  running  footsteps;  and  men's  figures  darkened  the 
moonlight  on  the  snow  before  the  arch. 

"Clash!  "  went  the  rapiers,  and  I  could  catch  the  glitter 
of  the  fire  as  it  flew  from  their  first  onset.  Walter  poised 
himself  on  his  feet  with  a  quick  alternate  balancing  move- 
ment, keeping  his  head  low  between  his  shoulders,  and  his 
rapier  point  far  out.  He  was  in  the  dark,  and  those  about 
the  mouth  of  the  arch  could  not  well  see  at  what  they  were 
striking,  whereas  he  had  them  clear  against  the  grey  of  the 
moonlit  sky. 

Steel  had  not  stricken  on  steel  three  times  when,  swift  as 
the  flash  of  the  lightning  when  it  shines  from  east -to  west, 
I  saw  Wat's  long  rapier  dart  out,  and  a  man  fell  forward 
towards  him,  clinking  on  the  stones  with  the  jingle  of 
concealed  armour.  Yet,  armour  or  no,  our  Wat's  rapier 
had  found  its  way  within.  Wat  spurned  the  fellow  with 
his  foot,  lest  in  falling  he  should  grip  to  pull  him  down, 
which  was  a  common  trick  of  the  time,  and  indeed  some- 
times resorted  to  without  a  wound.  But  the  dark  wet  stain 


THE  BICKER  IN  THE  SNOW.  95 

his  body  left  on  the  cobble-stones  as  it  turned,  told  us  that 
he  was  sped  surely  enough. 

In  a  moment  the  others  had  come  up,  and  the  whole 
archway  seemed  full  of  the  flicker  of  flashing  swords. 
Wat's  long  arm  wavered  here  and  there,  keeping  them  all 
at  bay.  I  could  have  cried  the  slogan  for  pride  in  him. 
This  was  the  incomparable  sworder  indeed,  and  John  Varlet, 
that  misbegotten  rogue,  had  not  taught  him  in  vain. 

"Let  off!"  he  cried  to  me,  never  taking  his  eyes  from 
his  foes.  "  Ease  me  a  little  to  the  right.  They  are  over 
heavy  for  my  iron  on  that  hand." 

So  with  that,  even  as  I  was  bidden,  and  because  there 
was  nothing  else  I  could  do,  I  struck  with  my  broad  Italian 
dagger  at  a  surly  visage  that  came  cornerwise  between  me 
and  the  sky,  and  tumbled  a  tall  fellow  out  of  an  angle  of  the 
gateway  on  the  top  of  the  first,  kicking  like  a  rabbit.  The 
rest  were  a  little  dashed  by  the  fall  of  these  two.  Still 
there  were  four  of  them,  and  one  great  loon  determinedly 
set  his  head  down,  and  wrapping  his  cloak  on  his  arm,  he 
rushed  at  my  cousin,  almost  overbearing  him  for  the 
moment.  He  broke  within  Wat's  guard,  and  the  swords 
of  the  rogue's  companions  had  been  in  his  heart,  but  just 
then  Lochinvar  gave  them  another  taste  of  his  quality. 
Lightly  leaping  to  the  side  just  out  of  the  measure  of  the 
varlet's  thrust,  and  reaching  sideways,  he  struck  the  man 
heavily  on  the  shoulder  with  the  dagger  in  his  left  hand, 
panting  with  the  force  of  the  blow,  so  that  he  fell  down 
like  the  dead.  At  the  same  moment  Wat  leaned  far  for- 
ward, engaging  all  the  points  of  the  other  swords  with  his 
rapier. 

They  gave  back  at  the  quick  unexpected  attack,  and  the 
points  of  their  swords  rose,  as  it  seemed,  for  no  more  than 
a  second.  But  in  that  pulse-beat  Wat's  rapier  shot  out 
straight  and  low,  and  yet  another  clapped  his  hand  upon 


96  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

his  body  and  cried  an  oath,  ere  he  too  fell  forward  upon 
his  dead  companions.  At  this  the  little  man,  who  had 
stood  all  the  while  in  the  background,  took  heart  of  grace 
and  came  forward,  and  I  could  see  the  hilt  of  the  steel- 
pistol  in  his  hand.  He  crouched  low  upon  his  hams,  try- 
ing to  get  a  sighting  shot  at  us.  But  I  had  him  clear  in 
the  moonbeam,  like  a  pullet  on  a  dyke;  and  just  when  I 
saw  his  forefinger  twitch  on  the  hammer-pull,  I  dropped 
him  with  a  bullet  fair  in  the  shoulder,  which  effectually 
spoilt  his  aim,  and  tumbled  him  beside  the  others. 

Then  the  remaining  two  threw  down  their  tools  and  ran, 
whatever  they  were  fit,  in  the  direction  of  the  town. 

Whereat  Walter  Gordon  with  much  philosophy  straiked 
his  sword  on  the  lapel  of  one  of  the  dead  men's  coats,  bent 
its  point  to  the  pavement  to  try  its  soundness,  and  returned 
it  to  its  velvet  sheath.  Then  he  solemnly  turned  and  took 
me  by  the  hand. 

"You  are  a  man,  Cousin  William,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  GREY  MOWDIEWORT. 

Bur  by  this  time  I  was  shaking  like  a  leaf  for  fear,  to- 
gether with  the  thought  of  what  I  had  done  in  the  taking  of 
life,  and  the  sending  of  my  fellow-creatures  to  their  account. 
Also  the  tears  came  hopping  down  my  cheek,  which  is  ever 
the  effect  that  fighting  has  on  me.  Yet  in  spite  of  this 
weakness  Wat  shook  me  again  by  the  hand,  and  said  only : 

"You  are  a  man!" 

Notwithstanding,  I  was  not  cheered,  but  continued  to 
greet  like  a  bairn,  only  quietly,  though  I  was  grateful  for 
his  words,  and  took  them  not  ill. 

Then  Walter  Gordon  went  forward  to  the  dead  men,  and 
turned  them  over,  looking  at  each  but  saying  no  word. 
Lastly  he  went  to  the  little  stout  man  whom  I  had  shot  in 
the  shoulder.  As  he  looked  in  his  face,  from  which  the 
mask  had  fallen  aside,  he  started  so  greatly  that  he  almost 
leaped  bodily  in  the  air. 

"William,  William,"  he  cried,  "by  the  King's  head,  we 
must  run  for  it.  This  is  not  a  'horning '  but  a  hanging 
job.  ' Tis  the  Duke  of  Wellwood  himself." 

Greatly  startled  at  the  name  of  the  great  Privy  Council- 
lor and  favourite  of  the  King,  I  went  and  looked.  The 
man's  face  had  fallen  clear  of  the  velvet  mask  with  which 
it  had  been  hidden,  and  looked  livid  and  grey  against  the 
snow  in  the  moon's  uncertain  light.  But  it  was  indeed  the 
Duke,  for  I  had  often  seen  him  going  to  the  Parliament  in 
his  state  and  dignity,  but  there  in  the  snow  he  looked 
inconceivably  mean,  dirty  and  small. 
H  97 


98  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"It's  a'  by  wi'  the  estate  noo,  Walter,"  I  said.  "You 
and  me  maun  tak'  the  heather  like  the  lave." 

So  saying,  I  snatched  up  the  head  wrapped  in  the  plaid, 
which  I  had  almost  forgotten,  and  called  him  to  come  on. 
For  we  were  on  the  outskirts  of  the  waste  ground  called  the 
King's  hunting  parks,  and  could  get  directly  away  without 
passing  a  house. 

But  Walter  was  determined  to  return  and  see  his  mother, 
lest  otherwise  the  horror  of  the  news  might  take  her  una- 
wares. Walter  was  ever  his  mother's  boy,  and  I  think  his 
undutiful  conduct  that  night  now  went  hard  with  him,  see- 
ing how  the  affair  had  turned  out. 

I  argued  with  him  that  it  was  the  maddest  ploy  thus  to 
go  back.  His  lodgings  would  certainly  be  searched  as 
soon  as  the  Duke  was  found,  and  the  two  who  had  escaped 
should  return  to  assist  the  watch.  But  I  could  not  over- 
come his  determination.  He  had  another  plan  to  set 
against  mine. 

"  There  is  a  vault  hereabout  that  I  used  to  hide  in  as  a 
boy.  Silly  folks  say  that  it  is  haunted.  But  indeed  there 
be  few  that  know  of  it.  You  can  bide  there  and  wait  till 
I  come." 

So  we  went  thither,  and  found  the  place  commodious 
enough  indeed,  but  damp  and  unkindly.  It  was  situate 
by  the  chapel  wall,  but  of  late  years  it  has  been  much 
filled  up  with  rubbish  since  the  pulling  down  of  the  Chapel 
Royal  by  the  mob  in  the  riots  of  the  Revolution  year. 

Yet  even  at  that  time  it  was  not  a  place  I  had  any 
stomach  for.  I  had  liefer  have  been  going  decently  to  my 
bed  in  my  lodgings  in  the  West  Bow  —  as  indeed  at  that 
moment  I  should,  but  for  that  daft  heathercat  of  a  cousin 
of  mine,  with  whose  gallantries,  for  my  sins,  I  thus  found 
myself  saddled. 

So  he  went  off  upon  his  errand,  leaving  me  alone;  and  I 


THE  GREY   MOWDIEWORT.  99 

hardly  looked  to  see  him  again,  for  I  made  sure  that  the 
guard  would  arrest  him  or  ever  he  had  gone  a  hundred 
yards.  It  was  little  that  I  could  do  in  that  sorrowful  place. 
But  I  unwrapped  the  poor  head  I  had  brought  with  me,  and 
put  it  with  reverence  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  dismal 
den.  Then  I  retired  to  an  angle  to  wait,  wrapping  my 
plaid  about  me  for  warmth ;  for  the  night  had  fallen  colder, 
as  it  ever  does  after  the  ceasing  of  a  storm. 

I  had  time  and  to  spare  then  for  thinking  upon  my  folly, 
and  how  I  had  damaged  the  cause  that  I  had  so  nearly 
gained  by  my  unlucky  interference  in  Walter's  vanities. 
It  came  to  me  that  now  of  a  certainty  both  Earlstoun  and 
Lochinvar  must  pass  wholly  away  from  the  Gordons,  and 
we  become  attainted  and  landless  like  the  red  Gregors. 
And  indeed  Kenmuir's  case  was  not  much  better. 

So  I  wore  the  weary  night  away,  black  dismal  thoughts 
eating  like  canker  worms  at  my  heart.  How  I  repented 
and  prayed,  no  man  knows.  For  that  is  the  young  man's 
repentance  —  after  he  has  eaten  the  sour  fruit,  to  pray  that 
he  may  not  have  the  stomach-ache. 

Yet  being  Galloway-born,  I  had  also  in  me  the  fear  of 
the  unseen,  which  folks  call  superstition.  And  it  irked  me 
more  than  all  other  fears  to  have  to  bide  all  the  night  (and 
I  knew  not  how  much  longer)  in  that  horrible  vault. 

It  seems  little  enough  to  some,  only  to  abide  all  night  in 
a  place  where  there  is  nothing  but  quiet  bones  of  dead 
men.  But,  I  warrant  you,  it  is  the  burgher  folk,  who  have 
never  lain  anywhere  but  bien  and  cosy  in  their  own  beds 
at  home  that  are  the  boldest  in  saying  this. 

So  the  night  sped  slowly  in  that  horrid  tomb.  I  watched 
the  white  moonbeams  spray  over  the  floor  and  fade  out,  as 
the  clouds  swept  clear  or  covered  the  moon's  face.  I  lis- 
tened to  every  sough  of  the  wind,  with  a  fear  lest  the  clank- 
ing halberts  of  the  watch  should  be  in  it.  The  sound  of  a 


100  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

man  walking  far  away  made  me  hear  in  fantasy  the  ground- 
ing of  their  axe-shafts  as  they  surrounded  my  place  of  con- 
cealment. It  is  bad  enough  to  have  one's  conscience  against 
one,  but  when  conscience  is  reinforced  by  a  well-grounded 
fear  of  the  hangman's  rope,  then  the  case  grows  uncouth 
indeed. 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  I  think  I  slept  a  little.  For  once  I 
waked  and  saw  the  moon,  red  and  near  the  setting,  shining 
through  a  great  round  hole  in  the  end  of  the  vault,  and  that 
so  brightly  that  I  seemed  to  see  motes  dancing  in  its  light 
as  in  a  hay-loft  in  the  summer  season. 

But  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  In  my  dream  my  eyes 
followed  the  direction  of  the  broad  beam,  and  lo  !  they  fell 
directly  on  the  poor  blackened  head  of  him  that  had  once 
been  John  Gordon  of  Lochinvar.  The  suns  and  rains  had 
not  dealt  kindly  with  him,  and  now  the  face  looked  like 
nothing  earthly,  as  I  saw  it  in  the  moonlight  of  the  ugsome 
vault.  I  could  have  screamed  aloud,  for  there  seemed  to  be 
a  frown  on  the  brow  and  a  writhed  grin  on  the  mouth  that 
boded  me  irksome  evils  to  come. 

Now  half  a  dozen  times  I  have  resolved  to  leave  out  of  my 
tale,  that  which  I  then  saw  happen  in  my  dream  of  the  night. 
For  what  I  am  about  to  relate  may  not  meet  with  belief  in 
these  times,  when  the  power  of  Satan  is  mercifully  restrained ; 
and  when  he  can  no  longer  cast  his  glamourie  over  whom  he 
will,  but  only  over  those  who,  like  witch-wives  and  others, 
yield  themselves  up  to  him  as  his  willing  subjects. 

But  I  shall  tell  plainly  what,  in  the  moonlight,  seemed  to 
me  to  befal  in  my  dream-sleep. 

It  appeared  then  to  me  that  I  was  staring  at  the  blackened 
head,  with  something  rising  and  falling  in  my  throat  like 
water  in  a  sobbing  well,  when  the  ground  slowly  stirred  in  the 
corner  where  the  head  lay,  and  even  as  I  looked,  a  beast 
came  forth  —  a  grey  beast  with  four  legs,  but  blind  of  eye 


THE  GREY   MOW]pIE^V<)XT..   ;-  TOL 

like  a  grey  mowdiewort,  which  took  the  head  between  its  fore- 
paws  and  rocked  it  to  and  fro  as  a  mother  rocks  a  fretful 
bairn,  sorrowing  over  it  and  pitying  it.  It  was  a  prodigy  to 
see  the  eyes  looking  forth  from  the  bone -sockets  of  the  head. 
Then  the  beast  left  it  again  lying  by  its  lone  and  went  and 
digged  in  the  corner.  As  the  moonlight  swept  across,  broad 
and  slow,  through  the  loud  beating  of  my  heart,  I  heard  the 
grey  mowdiewort  dig  the  hole  deeper  and  yet  deeper. 
Now  the  thing  that  made  me  fullest  of  terror  was  not  the  dig- 
ging of  the  beast,  but  the  manner  of  its  throwing  out  the 
earth,  which  was  not  behind  it  as  a  dog  does,  but  in  front, 
out  of  the  pit,  as  a  sexton  that  digs  a  grave. 

Then,  ere  the  moonbeams  quite  left  it  and  began  to  climb 
the  wall,  I  seemed  to  see  the  beast  roll  the  black  Thing  to 
the  edge  and  cover  it  up,  drawing  the  earth  over  it  silently. 
After  that,  in  my  fantasy,  it  seemed  to  look  at  me.  I  heard 
the  quick  patter  of  its  feet,  and  with  a  cry  of  fear  I  started 
up  to  flee,  lest  the  beast  should  come  towards  me  —  and 
with  that  I  knew  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OVER  THE   MUIR   AMANG   THE    HEATHER. 

WHEN  I  came  to  myself  my  cousin  Walter  Gordon  was 
standing  over  me.  He  was  dressed  in  countryman's  apparel, 
and  seemed  most  like  a  chapman,  with  a  small  pack  of  goods 
upon  his  back  for  sale  in  the  farm-towns  and  cottars'  houses. 
It  was  grey  day. 

"Where  is  the  beast?"  I  asked,  for  I  was  greatly  be- 
wildered by  my  swound. 

"What  beast?  There  is  no  beast,"  he  replied,  thinking 
that  I  dreamed. 

Then  I  told  him  of  what  I  had  seen ;  but  as  I  might  have 
expected  he  took  little  heed,  thinking  that  I  did  but  dream 
in  that  uncouth  place.  And  in  the  grey  light  he  went  for- 
ward with  a  fair  white  cloth  in  his  hand  wherewith  to  wrap 
his  father's  head  for  the  burial.  But  when  he  came  to  the 
corner  of  the  vault,  lo !  there  was  naught  there,  even  as  I 
had  said.  And  saving  that  the  earth  seemed  newly  stirred, 
no  trace  of  the  horror  I  had  seen,  which  staggered  him  no 
little.  Yet  me  it  did  not  surprise,  for  I  knew  what  I  had 
seen. 

But  in  a  little  he  said,  "That  is  all  folly,  William— -you 
and  your  beasts.  Ye  buried  it  yourself  in  your  sleep.  How 
many  times  have  ye  walked  the  ramparts  of  Earlstoun  in 
your  sark  ! " 

This  indeed  seemed  likely,  but  I  still  maintain  that  I  saw 
the  mowdiewort. 

Nevertheless,  when  we  came  to  consider  the  matter,  it  was 
102 


OVER  THE  MUIR  AMANG  THE  HEATHER.         103 

in  sooth  no  time  to  think  of  freits  or  portents.  It  was  no 
question  of  our  fathers'  heads.  Our  own  were  in  danger 
whether  the  Duke  of  Wellwood  lived  or  died ;  and  we  be- 
hoved to  look  limber  if  we  were  to  save  them  at  all.  It  is  a 
strange  feeling  that  comes  and  stays  about  the  roots  of  the 
neck,  when  one  first  realises  that  the  headsman  may  have  to 
do  therewith  or  many  weeks  pass  by.  And  it  is  a  feeling 
that  I  have  taken  to  bed  with  me  for  years  at  a  time. 

Wat  Gordon  had  warned  my  men  as  well  as  his  own.  So 
at  the  outside  of  the  town  toward  the  back  of  the  Borough- 
muir,  Hugh  Kerr  met  us  with  the  beasts.  Here  we  took  horse 
and  rode,  having  happily  seen  nothing  of  the  city  guard.  It 
was  judged  best  that  my  cousin  and  I  should  ride  alone. 
This  we  wished,  because  we  knew  not  whom  to  trust  in 
the  strange  case  in  which  we  found  ourselves.  Besides  we 
could  the  better  talk  over  our  chances  during  the  long  night 
marches  in  the  wilderness,  and  in  our  weary  hidings  among 
the  heather  in  the  daytime. 

So  we  steadily  rode  southward  toward  Galloway,  our  own 
country,  for  there  alone  could  we  look  for  some  ease  from 
the  long  arm  of  the  Privy  Council.  Not  that  Galloway  was 
safe.  The  dragoons  paraded  up  and  down  it  from  end  to 
end,  and  searched  every  nook  and  crevice  for  intercom- 
muned  fugitives.  But  Galloway  is  a  wide,  wild  place  where 
the  raw  edges  of  creation  have  not  been  rubbed  down.  And 
on  one  hillside  in  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan,  there  are  as  many 
lurking  places  as  Robert  Grier  of  Lag  has  sins  on  his  soul  — 
which  is  saying  no  light  thing,  the  Lord  knows. 

Once,  as  we  went  stealthily  by  night,  we  came  upon  a  com- 
pany of  muirland  men  who  kept  their  conventicle  in  the 
hollows  of  the  hills,  and  when  they  heard  us  coming  they 
scattered  and  ran  like  hares.  I  cried  out  to  them  that  we 
were  of  their  own  folk.  Yet  they  answered  not  but  only  ran 
all  the  faster,  for  we  might  have  been  informers,  and  it  was  a 


104  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

common  custom  of  such-like  to  claim  to  be  of  the  hill-people. 
Even  dragoons  did  so,  and  had  been  received  among  them 
to  the  hurt  of  many. 

Our  own  converse  was  the  strangest  thing.  Often  a  kind 
of  wicked  perverse  delight  came  over  me,  and  I  took  speech 
to  mock  and  stir  up  my  cousin  of  Lochinvar,  who  was  moody 
and  distraught,  which  was  very  far  from  his  wont. 

"  Cousin  Wat,"  I  said  to  him,  "  'tis  a  strange  sight  to  see 
your  mother's  son  so  soon  of  the  strict  opinions.  To  be 
converted  at  the  instance  of  her  Grace  of  Wellwood  is  no 
common  thing.  Wat,  I  tell  thee,  thou  shalt  lead  the  psalm- 
singing  at  a  conventicle  yet !  " 

Whereat  he  would  break  out  on  me,  calling  me  "crop- 
ear  "  and  other  names.  But  at  this  word  play  I  had,  I  think, 
as  much  the  mastery  as  he  at  the  play  of  sword-blades. 

"  Rather  it  is  you  shall  be  the  '  crop-head '  —  of  the  same 
sort  as  his  late  Majesty  ! "  I  said.  For  it  is  a  strange  thing 
that  so  soon  as  men  are  at  peril  of  their  lives,  if  they  be  to- 
gether, they  will  begin  to  jest  about  it — young  men  at  least. 

To  get  out  of  the  country  was  now  our  aim.  It  pleased 
Wat  not  at  all  to  have  himself  numbered  among  the  hill- folk 
and  be  charged  with  religion.  For  me  I  had  often  a  sore 
heart  and  a  bad  conscience,  that  I  had  made  so  little  of  all 
my  home  opportunities.  My  misspent  Sabbaths  stuck  in  my 
throat,  although  I  had  no  stomach  for  running  and  hiding 
with  the  intercommuned.  Perhaps,  if  I  had  loved  my  brother 
Sandy  better,  it  had  not  been  so  hard  a  matter.  But  that, 
God  forgive  me,  I  never  did,  though  I  knew  that  he  was  a 
good  Covenant  man  and  true  to  his  principles.  Yet  there 
is  no  mistake  but  that  he  gave  us  all  a  distaste  at  his  way  of 
thinking. 

So  we  wandered  by  night  and  hid  by  day  till  we  reached 
the  hills  of  our  own  south  country. 

At  last  we  came  to  the  white  house  of  Gordonstoun,  which 


OVER  THE  MUIR  AMANG  THE  HEATHER.         105 

stands  on  the  hill  above  the  clachan  of  Saint  John.  It  was 
a  lodge  of  my  cousin's,  and  the  keeper  of  it  was  a  true 
man,  Matthew  of  the  Dub  by  name.  From  him  we  learned 
that  there  were  soldiers  both  at  Lochinvar  and  Earlstoun. 
Moreover,  the  news  had  come  that  very  day,  with  the  riding 
post  from  Edinburgh,  of  the  wounding  of  the  Duke  of  Well- 
wood,  and  how  both  of  us  were  put  to  the  horn  and  declared 
outlaw. 

I  do  not  think  that  this  affected  us  much,  for  almost  every 
man  in  Galloway,  even  those  that  trooped  with  Graham  and 
Lag,  half  a  dozen  in  all,  had  been  time  and  again  at  the 
horn.  One  might  be  at  the  horn  —  that  is,  outlawed,  for 
forgetting  to  pay  a  cess  or  tax,  or  for  a  private  little  tulzie 
that  concerned  nobody,  or  for  getting  one's  lum  on  fire 
almost.  It  was  told  that  once  Lauderdale  himself  was  put 
to  the  horn  in  the  matter  of  a  reckoning  he  had  been  slack 
in  paying,  for  Seekin'  Johnnie  was  ever  better  at  drawing  in 
than  paying  out. 

But  to  think  of  my  mother  being  harassed  with  a  gar- 
rison, and  to  know  that  rough  blades  clattered  in  and  out  of 
our  bien  house  of  Earlstoun,  pleased  me  not  at  all.  Yet  it 
was  far  out  of  my  hap  to  help  it.  And  I  comforted  me  with 
the  thought,  that  it  had  been  as  bad  as  it  could  be  with  us, 
even  before  our  affray  with  the  Wellwood. 

So  there  was  nothing  for  it,  but  to  turn  out  our  horses  to 
grass  at  Gordonstoun  and  take  to  the  hills  like  the  rest. 
Matthew  of  the  Dub  gave  us  to  understand  that  he  could 
put  us  into  a  safe  hold  if  we  would  trust  ourselves  to  him. 

"  But  it  is  among  the  hill-folk  o'  Balmaghie ! "  he  said, 
looking  doubtfully  at  his  laird. 

"Ah,  Gordieston,"  said  Lochinvar,  making  a  wry  face, 
and  speaking  reproachfully,  "needs  must  when  the  devil 
drives  !  But  what  for  did  you  sign  all  the  papers  and  take 
all  the  oaths  against  intercommuning,  and  yet  all  the  time 


106  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

be  having  to  do  with  rebels  ?  "  For  Matthew  was  a  cunning 
man,  and  had  taken  all  the  King's  oaths  as  they  came  along, 
holding  the  parritch  and  feather  beds  of  Gordieston  on  the 
Hill  worth  any  form  of  words  whatsoever  —  which  indeed 
could  be  swallowed  down  like  an  apothecary's  bolus,  and 
no  more  ado  about  it. 

"'Deed,  your  honour,"  said  Matthew  of  the  Dub,  slyly, 
"  it's  a  wersh  breakfast  to  streek  your  neck  in  a  tow,  an'  I 
hae  sma'  stammach  for  the  Whig's  ride  to  the  Grassmarket. 
But  a  man  canna  juist  turn  informer  an'  gie  the  gang-by  to 
a'  his  auld  acquaintances.  Wha  in  Gallowa'  wants  to  ride 
an'  mell  wi'  Clavers  an'  the  lads  on  the  Grey  Horses,  save 
siccan  loons  as  red-wud  Lag,  roaring  Baldoun,  and  Lidder- 
dale,  the  Hullion  o'  the  Isle?" 

"I  would  have  you  remember,  Matthew,"  said  my  cousin, 
speaking  in  Scots,  "that  I  rode  wi'  them  no  lang  syne 
mysel'." 

"Ou,  ay,  I  ken,"  said  independent  Matthew,  dourly, 
"  there  was  my  leddy  to  thank  for  that.  The  women  fowk 
are  a'  great  gomerils  when  they  meddle  wi'  the  affairs  o'  the 
State.  But  a'  the  Glen  jaloosed  that  ye  wad  come  oot  richt, 
like  the  daddy  o'  ye,  when  ye  tired  o'  leading-strings,  an' 
gang  to  the  horn  like  an  honest  man,  e'en  as  ye  hae  dune 
the  day." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AULD  ANTON  OF  THE  DUCHRAE. 

IT  was  a  wintry-like  morning  in  the  later  spring  when 
at  last  we  got  out  of  hiding  in  the  house  of  Gordonstoun. 
During  our  stay  there  I  had  often  gone  to  see  my  mother 
just  over  the  hill  at  Earlstoun,  to  give  her  what  comfort  I 
could,  and  in  especial  to  advise  about  Sandy,  who  was  then 
on  his  travels  in  the  Low  Countries.  That  morning  Mat- 
thew of  the  Dub  came  with  us,  and  we  took  our  legs  to  it, 
despising  horses  in  our  new  quality  of  hill-folk.  The  wind 
blew  bitter  and  snell  from  the  east.  And  May  —  the  bleakest 
of  spring  months,  that  ought  to  be  the  bonniest  —  was 
doing  her  worst  to  strengthen  the  cold,  in  proportion  as  she 
lengthened  her  unkindly  days. 

Matthew  told  us  not  whither  we  were  going,  and  as  for 
me,  I  had  no  thought  or  suspicion.  Yet  the  tear  was  in  my 
eye  as  we  saw  the  bonny  woods  of  Earlstoun  lying  behind 
us,  with  the  grey  head  of  the  old  tower  setting  its  chin  over 
the  tree-tops  and  looking  wistfully  after  us. 

But  we  marched  south  along  the  Ken,  by  New  Galloway, 
and  the  seat  of  my  Lord  Kenmuir,  where  there  was  now  a 
garrison  with  Clavers  himself  in  hold.  We  saw  the  loch  far 
beneath  us,  for  we  had  to  keep  high  on  the  side  of  Bennan. 
It  ruffled  its  breast  as  a  dove's  feathers  are  blown  awry  by 
a  sudden  gusty  wind.  It  was  a  cheerless  day,  and  the 
gloom  on  our  faces  was  of  the  deepest.  For  we  were  in 
the  weird  case  of  suffering  for  conscience'  sake,  and  with  no 
great  raft  either  of  conscience  or  of  religion  to  comfort  us. 

107 


108  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Not  that  our  case  was  uncommon.  For  all  were  not 
saints  who  hated  tyranny. 

"Wat,"  I  said,  arguing  the  matter,  "the  thing  gangs  in  the 
husk  o'  a  hazel.  I  wear  a  particular  make  of  glove  chevron. 
It  likes  me  well,  but  I  am  not  deadly  set  on  it.  Comes  the 
Baron-bailie  or  my  Lord  Provost,  and  saith  he  :  'Ye  shall  not 
henceforth  wear  that  glove  of  thine,  but  one  of  my  colour 
and  of  the  fashion  official ! '  Then  says  I  to  the  Baron-bailie, 
'To  the  111  Thief  wi'  you  and  your  pattern  gauntlet ! '  And 
I  take  him  naturally  across  the  cheek  with  it,  and  out  with 
my  whinger " 

"  Even  so,"  said  my  cousin,  who  saw  not  whither  I  was 
leading  him,  "let  no  man  drive  you  as  to  the  fashion  of 
your  gloves.  Out  with  your  whinger,  and  see  what  might 
be  the  colour  of  his  blood  !  " 

"And  what  else  are  the  Covenant  men  doing?"  cried  I, 
quick  to  take  advantage.  "  We  were  none  so  fond  o'  the 
Kirk  that  I  ken  of — we  that  are  of  the  lairds  o'  Galloway, 
when  we  could  please  ourselves  when  and  where  we  would 
go.  Was  there  one  of  us,  say  maybe  your  father  and  mine, 
that  had  not  been  sessioned  time  and  again  ?  Many  an  ill 
word  did  we  speak  o'  the  Kirk,  and  many  a  glint  did  we 
cast  at  the  sandglass  in  the  pulpit  as  the  precentor  gied  her 
another  turn.  But  after  a'  the  Kirk  was  oor  ain  mither,  and 
what  for  should  the  King  misca'  or  upturn  her  ?  Gin  she 
whummelt  us,  and  peyed  us  soondly  till  we  clawed  where  we 
werena  yeuky,  wha's  business  was  that  but  oor  ain?  But 
comes  King  Charlie,  and  says  he,  '  Pit  awa'  your  old  mither, 
that's  overly  sore  on  you,  an'  tak'  this  braw  easy  step-minnie, 
that  will  never  steer  ye  a  hair  or  gar  ye  claw  your  hinder- 
lands  !'  What  wad  ye  say,  Wat?  What  say  ye,  Wat? 
Wad  ye  gie  your  mither  up  for  the  King's  word?" 

"  No,"  said  Wat,  sullenly,  for  now  he  saw  where  he  was 
being  taken,  and  liked  it  little,  "  I  wadna." 


AULD  ANTON  OF  THE  DUCHRAE.       109 

I  thought  I  had  him,  and  so,  logically,  I  had.  But  he  was 
nothing  but  a  dour,  donnert  soldier,  and  valued  good  logic 
not  a  docken. 

"  Hear  me,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  silence ;  "  this  is 
my  way  of  it.  I  am  no  preacher,  and  but  poor  at  the  prac- 
tice. But  I  learned,  no  matter  where,  to  be  true  to  the 
King  —  and,  mind  you,  even  now  I  stand  by  Charles  Stuart, 
though  at  the  horn  I  be.  Even  now  I  have  no  quarrel  with 
him,  though  for  the  dirty  sake  of  the  Duke  of  Wellwood,  he 
has  one  with  me." 

"  That's  as  may  be,"  I  returned ;  "  but  mind  where  you 
are  going.  Ye  will  be  eating  the  bread  of  them  that  think 
differently,  and  surely  ye '11  hae  the  sense  and  the  mense  to 
keep  a  calm  sough,  an'  your  tongue  far  ben  within  your 
teeth." 

We  were  passing  the  ford  of  the  Black  Water  as  I  was 
speaking,  and  soon  we  came  to  the  steading  of  the  Little 
Duchrae  in  the  light  of  the  morning.  It  was  a  long,  low 
house,  well  thatched,  like  all  the  houses  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. And  it  was  sending  up  a  heartsome  pew  of  reek  into 
the  air,  that  told  of  the  stir  of  breakfast.  The  tangle  of  the 
wood  grew  right  up  to  the  windows  of  the  back,  and  imme- 
diately behind  the  house  there  was  a  little  morass  with  great 
willow  trees  growing  and  many  hiding-places  about  it  —  as 
well  I  knew,  for  there  Maisie  Lennox  and  I  had  often  played 
the  day  by  the  length. 

Now  "  Auld  Anton  "  of  the  Duchrae  was  a  kenned  man 
all  over  the  country-side.  The  name  of  Anthony  Lennox 
of  Duchrae  was  often  on  my  father's  lips,  and  not  seldom 
he  would  ride  off  to  the  south  in  the  high  days  of  Pres- 
bytery, to  have  fellowship  with  him  whenever  he  was  low 
in  the  spirit,  and  also  before  our  stated  seasons  of  com- 
munion. Thither  also  I  had  often  ridden  in  later  years  on 
other  errands,  as  has  already  been  said. 


110  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Never  had  I  been  able  to  understand,  by  what  extraordi- 
nary favour  Anthony  Lennox  had  not  only  been  able  to 
escape  so  far  himself,  but  could  afford  a  house  of  refuge 
to  others  in  even  more  perilous  plight.  Upon  the  cause 
of  this  immunity  there  is  no  need  at  present  to  conde- 
scend, but  certain  it  is  that  the  house  of  the  Duchrae 
had  been  favoured  above  most,  owing  to  an  influence  at 
that  time  hidden  from  me.  For  Auld  Anton  was  never 
the  man  to  hide  his  thoughts  or  to  set  a  curb  upon  his 
actions. 

With  a  light  hand  Matthew  of  the  Dub  knocked  at  the 
door,  which  was  carefully  and  immediately  opened.  A 
woman  of  a  watchful  and  rather  severe  countenance  pre- 
sented herself  there  —  a  serving  woman,  but  evidently  one 
accustomed  to  privilege  and  equality,  as  was  common  in 
Galloway  at  that  day. 

"Matthew  Welsh,"  she  said,  "what  brings  you  so  far 
from  hame  so  early  in  the  morning?  " 

"I  come  wi'  thae  twa  callants  —  young  Gordon  o' 
Earlstoun,  and  a  young  man  that  is  near  kin  to  him. 
It  may  be  better  to  gie  the  particulars  the  go-by  till 
I  see  you  more  privately.  Is  the  good  man  about  the 
doors?" 

For  answer  the  woman  went  to  the  window  at  the  back 
and  cried  thrice.  Instantly  we  saw  a  little  cloud  of  men 
disengage  themselves  irregularly  from  the  bushes  and  come 
towards  the  door.  Then  began  a  curious  scene.  The 
woman  ran  to  various  hiding-places  under  the  eaves,  behind 
dressers,  in  aumries  and  presses,  and  set  a  large  number  of 
bowls  of  porridge  on  the  deal  table.  Soon  the  house  was 
filled  with  the  stir  of  men  and  the  voices  of  folk  in  earnest 
conversation. 

Among  them  all  I  was  chiefly  aware  of  one  young  man 
of  very  striking  appearance,  whose  dark  hair  flowed  back 


AULD  ANTON  OF  THE  DUCHRAE.       Ill 

from  a  broad  brow,  white  as  a  lady's,  and  who  looked  like 
one  born  to  command.  On  the  faces  of  many  of  the  men 
who  entered  and  overflowed  the  little  kitchen  of  the 
Duchrae,  was  the  hunted  look  of  them  that  oftentimes 
glance  this  way  and  that  for  a  path  of  escape.  But  on  the 
face  of  this  man  was  only  a  free  soldierly  indifference  to 
danger,  as  of  one  who  had  passed  through  many  perils  and 
come  forth  scatheless. 

Last  of  all  the  Master  of  the  House  entered  with  the 
familiarity  of  the  well-accustomed.  He  was  alert  and 
active,  a  man  of  great  height,  yet  holding  himself  like  a 
soldier.  Three  counties  knew  him  by  his  long  grey  beard 
and  bushy  eyebrows  for  Anthony  Lennox,  one  of  the  most 
famous  leaders  of  the  original  United  Societies.  To 
me  he  was  but  Maisie  Lennox's  father,  and  indeed  he 
had  never  wared  many  words  on  a  boy  such  as  I  seemed 
to  him. 

But  now  he  came  and  took  us  both  by  the  hand  in 
token  of  welcome,  and  to  me  in  especial  he  was  full  of 
warm  feeling. 

"You  are  welcome,  young  sir,"  he  said.  " Many  an  hour 
at  the  dyke-back  have  we  had,  your  father  and  I,  praying 
for  our  bairns  and  for  poor  Scotland.  Alack  that  I  left 
him  on  the  way  to  Bothwell  last  year  and  rode  forward  to 
tulzie  wi'  Robin  Hamilton  —  and  now  he  lies  in  his  quiet 
resting  grave,  an'  Auld  Anton  is  still  here  fighting  away 
among  the  contenders." 

With  Walter  also  he  shook  hands,  and  gave  him  the  wel- 
come that  one  true  man  gives  to  another.  Lochinvar  sat 
silent  and  watchful  in  the  strange  scene.  For  me  I  seemed 
to  be  in  a  familiar  place,  for  Earlstoun  was  on  every  tongue. 
And  it  was  not  for  a  little  that  I  came  to  know  that  they 
meant  my  brother  Sandy,  who  was  a  great  man  among 
them  —  greater  than  ever  my  father  had  been,  though 


112  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

he  had  "sealed  his  testimony  with  his  blood,"  as  their 
phrase  ran. 

I  thought  it  best  not  to  give  my  cousin's  name,  excusing 
myself  in  the  meantime  by  vouching  that  his  father  had 
suffered  to  the  death,  even  as  mine  had  done,  for  the 
cause  and  honour  of  Scotland's  Covenant. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   SWEET  SINGERS   OF   THE   DEER-SLUNK. 

Now  my  father  had  drilled  it  into  me  that  Anton  Lennox, 
called  the  Covenanter,  was  a  good  and  sound-hearted  man, 
even  as  he  was  doubtless  a  manifest  and  notable  Christian. 
But  the  tale  concerning  him  that  most  impressed  me  and 
touched  my  spirit  nearest,  was  the  tale  of  how  he  served 
Muckle  John  Gib  and  his  crew,  after  godly  Mr.  Cargill  had 
delivered  them  over  to  Satan. 

It  was  Sandy,  my  brother,  that  was  the  eye-witness  of  the 
affair.  He  was  ever  of  the  extreme  opinion — as  my 
mother  used  often  to  say,  "Our  Sandy  was  either  in  the 
moon  or  the  midden" — but  in  my  judgment  oftenest  in 
the  latter. 

Yet  I  will  never  deny  that  he  has  had  a  great  deal  of 
experience,  though  I  would  rather  want  than  have  some  of 
it.  Now  at  this  time,  Sandy,  perhaps  by  means  of  his 
wife,  Jean  Hamilton  (who,  like  her  brother  Robert,  was 
just  inordinate  for  preachings  and  prophesyings),  was  much 
inclined  to  kick  over  the  traces,  and  betake  himself  to  the 
wilder  extremes  that  were  much  handled  by  our  enemies 
for  the  purpose  of  bringing  discredit  on  the  good  name  of 
the  Covenants. 

There  was  one  great  hulking  sailor  of  Borrowstounness 
that  was  specially  afflicted  with  these  visions  and  maunderings. 
Nothing  but  his  own  crazy  will  in  all  things  could  satisfy 
him.  He  withdrew  himself  into  the  waste  with  two  or  three 
men  and  a  great  company  of  feeble-minded  women,  and 


114  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

there  renounced  all  authority  and  issued  proclamations  of  the 
wildest  and  maddest  kinds. 

The  godly  and  devout  Mr.  Donald  Cargill  (as  he  was 
called,  for  his  real  name  was  Duncan)  was  much  exercised 
about  the  matter.  And  rinding  himself  in  the  neighbourhood 
to  which  these  people  had  betaken  themselves,  he  spared  no 
pains,  but  with  much  and  sore  foot-travel  he  found  them  out, 
and  entered  into  conference  with  them.  But  John  Gib,  who 
could  be  upon  occasion  a  most  faceable  and  plausible  person, 
persuaded  him  to  abide  with  them  for  a  night.  Which  ac- 
cordingly he  did,  but  having  wrestled  with  them  in  prayer 
and  communing  half  the  night,  and  making  nothing  of  them, 
presently  he  rose  and  went  out  into  the  fields  most  unhappy. 
So  after  long  wandering  he  came  homeward,  having  failed 
in  his  mission.  Then  it  was  that  he  told  the  matter  to  old 
Anton  Lennox,  who  had  come  from  Galloway  to  attend  the 
great  Society's  Meeting  at  Howmuir.  With  him  at  the  time 
was  my  brother  Sandy,  and  here  it  is  that  Sandy's  story  was 
used  to  commence. 

And  of  all  Sandy's  stories  it  was  the  one  I  liked  best, 
because  there  was  the  least  chance  of  his  having  anything 
about  himself  to  tell. 

"I  mind  the  day"  —  so  he  began  —  "a  fine  heartsome 
harvest  day  in  mid-September.  We  had  our  crop  in  early 
that  year,  and  Anton,  my  father  and  I,  had  gotten  awa'  be- 
times to  the  Societies'  meeting  at  Lesmahagow.  It  was  in 
the  earliest  days  of  them  —  for  ye  maun  mind  that  I  am  one 
o'  the  few  surviving  original  members.  We  were  a'  sitting 
at  our  duty,  when  in  there  came  into  the  farm  kitchen  where 
we  abode,  Mr.  Donald  Cargill  himself.  He  was  leaning  upon 
his  staff,  and  his  head  was  hanging  down.  We  desisted  from 
our  worship  and  looked  at  him  steadfastly,  for  we  saw  that 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  had  been  upon  him  and  that  for  grief. 
So  we  waited  for  the  delivery  of  his  testimony. 


THE  SWEET  SINGERS  OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK.        115 

" '  My  heart  is  heavy,'  he  said  at  long  and  last,  '  for  the 
people  of  the  wilderness  are  delivered  over  to  the  gainsayer, 
and  that  by  reason  of  John  Gib,  called  Muckle  John,  sailor 
in  Borrowstounness,  and  presently  leading  the  silly  folks 
astray.'  Then  he  told  them  how  he  had  wrestled  with 
the  Gibbites  mightily  in  the  Spirit,  and  had  been  overthrown. 
Whereat  he  was  notified  that  the  hearts  of  all  those  that 
hated  the  Way  would  be  lifted  up. 

"  He  also  brought  a  copy  of  the  foolish  sheet  called  the 
'  Proclamation  of  the  Sweet  Singers,'  which  was  much 
handed  about  among  all  the  persecutors  at  this  time,  and 
made  to  bring  terrible  discredit  on  the  sober  and  God- 
fearing folk  of  the  South  and  West,  who  had  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  the  matter. 

"'Let  me  see  it,'  said  Anton  Lennox,  holding  out  his 
hand  for  it. 

"Mr.  Cargill  gave  it  to  him,  saying  sadly,  'The  Spirit  will 
not  always  strive  with  them  ! ' 

" '  Na,'  said  Auld  Anton,  '  but  I'll  e'en  strive  wi'  them 
myseP  !  Reek  me  doon  Clickie  ! ' 

"He  spoke  of  his  great  herd's  stave  that  had  a  shank 
of  a  yard  and  a  half  long  and  was  as  thick  as  my  wrist. 

" '  Come  you,  Sandy,'  he  cried  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
strode  out,  '  and  ye  will  get  your  bellyful  of  Sweet  Singing 
this  day ! ' 

"  Now  I  did  not  want  to  move  for  the  exercise  was  exceed- 
ing pleasant.  But  my  father  also  bade  me  go  with  Auld  Anton, 
and  as  you  know,  it  was  not  easy  to  say  nay  to  my  father. 

"  It  was  over  a  moor  that  we  took  our  way  —  silent 
because  all  the  wild  birds  had  by  with  their  nesting,  and 
where  Mr.  Cargill  had  left  the  company  of  John  Gib  was 
in  a  very  desert  place  where  two  counties  met.  But  Auld 
Anton  went  stegging  *  over  the  hills,  till  I  was  fair  driven 
*  Walking  rapidly  with  long  steps. 


116  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

out  of  my  breath.     And  ever  as  he  went  he  drove  his  staff 
deeper  and  dourer  into  the  sod. 

"  It  was  a  long  season  before  we  arrived  at  the  place,  but 
at  last  we  came  to  the  top  of  a  little  brow-face,  and  stood 
looking  at  the  strange  company  gathered  beneath  us. 

"There  was  a  kind  of  moss-hag  of  dry  peat,  wide  and 
deep,  yet  level  along  the  bottom.  Down  upon  the  black 
coom  was  a  large  company  of  women  all  standing  close  to- 
gether and  joining  their  hands.  A  little  way  apart  on  a 
mound  of  peat  in  the  midst,  stood  a  great  hulk  of  a  fellow, 
with  a  gown  upon  him,  like  a  woman's  smock,  of  white 
linen  felled  with  purple  at  the  edges.  But  whenever  it  blew 
aside  with  the  wind,  one  saw  underneath  the  sailor's  jerkin 
of  rough  cloth  with  the  bare  tanned  skin  of  the  neck  showing 
through. 

"  *  Certes,  Master  Anton,'  said  I,  '  but  yon  is  a  braw  chiel, 
him  wi'  the  broad  hat  and  the  white  cock  ontill  the  bob  o't ! ' 

"  And  indeed  a  brave,  braw,  blythesome-like  man  he  was, 
for  all  the  trashery  of  his  attire.  He  kept  good  order  among 
the  men  and  women  that  companied  with  him  in  the  Deer- 
Slunk.  There  were  thirty  of  them  —  twenty-six  being  women 
—  many  of  them  very  respectable  of  family,  that  had  been 
led  away  from  their  duty  by  the  dangerous,  persuading  tongue 
of  John  Gib.  But  Auld  Anton  looked  very  grim  as  he  stood 
a  moment  on  the  knowe-top  and  watched  them,  and  he  took 
a  shorter  grip  of  the  cudgel  he  carried  in  his  hand.  It  was 
of  black  crab-tree,  knotted  and  grievous. 

" '  John  Gib  ! '  cried  Anton  Lennox  from  the  hill-top  sud- 
denly in  a  loud  voice  : 

"  The  great  sea  slug  of  a  man  in  the  white  petticoat  turned 
slowly  round,  and  looked  at  us  standing  on  the  parched  brae- 
face  with  no  friendly  eye. 

"  *  Begone  —  ye  are  the  children  of  the  devil  —  begone  to 
your  father  ! '  he  cried  back. 


THE  SWEET  SINGERS  OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK.        117 

"'Belike  —  John  Gib  —  belike,  but  bide  a  wee  —  I  am 
coming  down  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  you  as  to  that ! ' 
replied  Auld  Anton,  and  his  look  had  a  smile  in  it,  that  was 
sour  as  the  crab-apples  which  his  cudgel  would  have  borne 
had  it  bidden  in  the  hedge-root. 

" '  I  have  come/  he  said  slowly  and  tartly,  '  that  I  might 
converse  seriously  with  you,  John  Gib,  and  that  concerning 
the  way  that  you  have  treated  Mr.  Donald  Cargill,  an  hon- 
oured servant  of  the  Lord  ! ' 

" '  Poof ! '  cried  John  Gib,  standing  up  to  look  at  us,  while 
the  women  drew  themselves  together  angrily  to  whisper, 
'  speak  not  to  us  of  ministers.  We  deny  them  every  one. 
We  have  had  more  comfort  to  our  souls  since  we  had  done 
with  ministers  and  elders,  with  week-days  and  fast-days, 
and  Bibles  and  Sabbaths,  and  came  our  ways  out  here  by 
ourselves  to  the  deeps  of  the  Deer-Slunk  ! ' 

" '  Nay,'  said  Old  Anton,  '  ministers  indeed  are  not  all  they 
might  be.  But  without  them,  ye  have  proved  yourself  but  a 
blind  guide  leading  the  blind,  John  Gib  !  Ye  shall  not  long 
continue  sound  in  the  faith  or  straight  in  the  way  if  ye  want 
faithful  guides  !  But  chiefly  for  the  fashion  in  which  ye  have 
used  Mr.  Cargill,  am  I  come  to  wrestle  with  you,'  cried  Anton. 

" '  He  is  but  an  hireling,'  shouted  Muckle  John  Gib,  mak- 
ing his  white  gown  flutter. 

" '  Yea,  Yea,  and  Amen  ! '  cried  the  women  that  were  at 
his  back.  But  Davie  Jamie,  Walter  Ker,  and  John  Young, 
the  other  three  men  who  were  with  him,  looked  very  greatly 
ashamed  and  turned  away  their  faces  —  as  indeed  they  had 
great  need. 

" '  Stand  up  like  men  !  David  Jamie,  Walter  Ker,  and 
John  Young ! '  cried  Anton  to  them,  '  Do  ye  bide  to  take 
part  with  these  silly  women  and  this  hulker  from  the  bilboes, 
or  will  ye  return  with  me  to  good  doctrine  and  wholesome 
correction  ? ' 


118  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

"  But  the  three  men  answered  not  a  word,  looking  like 
men  surprised  in  a  shameful  thing  and  without  their  need- 
ful garments. 

"'Cargill  me  no  Cargills  ! '  said  John  Gib;  'he  is  a 
traitor,  a  led  captain  and  an  hireling.  He  deserted  the 
poor  and  went  to  another  land.  He  came  hither  to  us,  yet 
neither  preached  to  us  nor  prayed  with  us.' 

"  John  Young  looked  about  him  as  John  Gib  said  this,  as 
though  he  would  have  contradicted  him  had  he  dared.  But 
he  was  silent  again  and  looked  at  the  ground. 

" '  Nay,'  said  Auld  Anton,  *  that  is  a  lie,  John  Gib ;  for  I 
know  that  he  offered  to  preach  to  you,  standing  with  his 
Bible  open  between  his  hands  as  is  his  ordinary.  But  ye 
wanted  him  to  promise  to  confine  his  preaching  to  you  — 
which  when  he  would  not  consent  to  do,  ye  were  for  thrust- 
ing him  out.  And  he  came  home,  wet  and  weary,  with  the 
cold  easterly  wet  fog  all  night  upon  the  muir,  very  melan- 
choly, and  with  great  grief  for  you  all  upon  his  spirit ! ' 

"Then  at  this  John  Gib  became  suddenly  very  furious 
and  drew  a  pistol  upon  us.  This  made  Anton  Lennox  laugh. 

"'I  shall  come  down  and  wrestle  with  your  pistols  in  a 
wee,  John  Gib.  But  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  you  all  first. ' 

"  He  stood  awhile  and  looked  at  them  with  contempt  as 
if  they  were  the  meanest  wretches  under  heaven,  as  indeed 
they  were. 

"'You,  John  Gib,  that  lay  claim  to  being  a  wizard,  I 
have  little  to  say  to  you.  Ye  have  drawn  away  these  silly 
folk  with  your  blasphemous  devices.  Your  name  is  legion, 
for  there  are  many  devils  within  you.  You  are  the  herd 
of  swine  after  the  devils  had  entered  into  them.  Hath 
your  master  given  you  any  word  to  speak  before  I  come 
down  to  you  ? ' 

"'Ay,'  said  John  Gib,  leaping  up  in  the  air  and  clapping 
his  hands  together  as  if  he  would  again  begin  the  dance, 


THE  SWEET  SINGERS  OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK.        119 

which,  accompanied  by  a  horrid  yowling  like  that  of  a 
beaten  dog,  they  called  Sweet  Singing. 

"'Ay,  that  I  have!  Out  upon  you,  Anton  Lennox,  that 
set  up  for  a  man  of  God  and  a  reprover  of  others.  I  alone 
am  pure,  and  God  dwells  in  me.  I  lift  up  my  testi- 
mony against  all  the  months  of  the  year,  for  their  names  are 
heathen.  I  alone  testify  against  January  and  February; 
against  Sunday,  Monday,  and  Tuesday;  against  Martinmas 
and  holidays,  against  Lammas-day,  Whitsun-day,  Candle- 
mas, Beltan,  stone  crosses,  saints'  images,  Kelton  Hill  Fair 
and  Stonykirk  Sacrament.  Against  Yule  and  Christmas, 
old  wife's  fables,  Palm  Sunday,  Carlin  Sunday,  Pasch, 
Hallow,  and  Hogmanay;  against  the  cracking  of  nits  and 
the  singing  of  sangs;  again  all  romances  and  story-buiks; 
against  Handsel  Monday,  kirks,  kirkyairds  and  ministers, 
and  specially  against  cock-ups  in  the  front  o'  the  Sabbath 
bonnets  o'  ministers'  wives;  against  registers,  lawyers  and 
all  lawbooks ' 

"He  cried  out  this  rigmarole  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
speaking  trippingly  by  rote  as  one  that  says  his  lesson  in 
school  and  has  learned  it  often  and  well.  He  rolled  his 
eyes  as  he  recited,  and  all  the  women  clapped  their  hands 
and  made  a  kind  of  moaning  howl  like  a  dog  when  it  bays 
the  moon. 

"'Yea,  Yea,  and  Amen! '  they  cried  after  him,  like  chil- 
dren singing  in  chorus. 

"' Peace,  devil's  brats  all!1  cried  Anton  Lennox,  like  a 
tower  above  them. 

"And  they  hushed  at  his  word,  for  he  stood  over  them 
all,  like  one  greater  than  man,  till  even  Muckle  John  Gib 
seemed  puny  beside  the  old  man. 

"'  David  Jamie,  hearken  to  me,  you  that  has  your  hand 
on  your  bit  shable.*  Better  put  up  your  feckless  iron  spit. 
*  Short  sword. 


120  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

It  will  do  you  no  good.  You  are  a  good  scholar  lost,  and 
a  decent  minister  spoiled.  I  wonder  at  you  —  a  lad  of 
some  lear  —  companying  with  this  hairy-throated,  tarry- 
fisted  deceiver. ' 

"  This  David  Jamie  was  a  young  limber  lad,  who  looked 
paler  and  more  delicate  than  the  others.  What  brought 
him  into  the  company  of  mad  men  and  misguided  women, 
it  is  perhaps  better  only  guessing. 

"  He  looked  sufficiently  ashamed  now  at  all  events. 

"  *  Walter  Ker  and  John  Young,  hearken  ye  to  me;  I  have 
more  hope  of  you.  You  are  but  thoughtless,  ignorant,  land- 
ward men,  and  the  Lord  may  be  pleased  to  reclaim  you  from 
this  dangerous  and  horrible  delusion.' 

"Anton  Lennox  looked  about  him.  There  was  a  fire 
smouldering  at  no  great  distance  from  him.  Something 
black  and  square  lay  upon  it.  He  took  three  great  strides 
to  the  place.  Lifting  the  dark  smouldering  object  up  from 
off  the  fire,  he  cried  aloud  in  horror,  and  began  rubbing 
with  his  hands.  It  was  a  fine  large-print  Bible,  with  more 
than  half  of  it  burned  away.  There  were  also  several  little 
ones  upon  the  fire  underneath.  I  never  saw  a  man's  anger 
fire  up  more  quickly.  For  me,  I  was  both  amazed  and 
afraid  at  the  awful  and  unthinkable  blasphemy. 

"'John  Gib,'  cried  Anton  Lennox,  'stand  up  before  the 
Lord,  and  answer  —  who  has  done  this?  ' 

"'I,  that  am  the  head  of  the  Sweet  Singers,  and  the  Lord's 
anointed! '  said  he.  'I  have  done  it! ' 

"'Then,  by  the  Lord's  great  name,  I  will  make  you  sing 
right  sweetly  for  this ! '  cried  Anton,  taking  a  vow. 

"Then  one  of  the  women  took  up  the  parable. 

"'We  heard  a  voice  in  the  Frost  Moss,'  she  said,  'and  a 
light  shone  about  us  there ;  and  John  Gib  bade  us  burn  our 
Bibles,  for  that  the  Psalms  in  Metre,  the  chapter  headings, 
and  the  Table  of  Contents  were  but  human  inventions.' 


THE  SWEET  SINGERS  OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK.        121 

"  'And  I  did  it  out  of  despite  against  God ! '  cried  John 
Gib. 

"Then  Anton  Lennox  said  not  a  word  more,  but  cast 
away  his  plaid,  spat  upon  his  cudgel-palm,  and  called  over 
his  shoulder  to  me : 

"'Come,  Sandy,  and  help  me  to  wrestle  in  the  Spirit 
with  these  Sweet  Singers. ' 

"As  he  ran  down  the  brae,  David  Jamie,  the  student 
youth,  came  at  him  with  a  little  spit-stick  of  a  sword,  and 
cried  that  if  he  came  nearer  he  would  run  him  through. 

'"The  Lord  forgie  ye  for  leein',  callant/  cried  Anton, 
catching  the  poor  thin  blade  on  his  great  oak  cudgel,  for 
Anton  was  a  great  player  with  the  single-sticks,  and  as  a 
lad|had  been  the  cock  of  the  country-side.  The  steel,  being 
spindle-thin,  shivered  into  twenty  pieces,  and  the  poor  lad 
stood  gaping  at  the  sword-hilt  left  in  his  hand,  which  had 
grown  suddenly  light. 

"'Bide  you  there  and  wrestle  with  him,  Sandy!'  Auld 
Anton  cried  again  over  his  shoulder. 

"  So  I  took  my  knee  and  tripped  David  up.  And  so  sat 
up  upon  him  very  comfortable,  till  his  nose  was  pressed 
into  the  moss,  and  all  his  members  sprawled  and  waggled 
beneath  me  like  a  puddock  under  a  stone. 

"Then  Auld  Anton  made  straight  for  John  Gib  himself, 
who  stood  back  among  his  circle  of  women,  conspicuous 
in  his  white  sark  and  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand.  When  he 
saw  Auld  Anton  coming  so  fiercely  at  him  across  the  peat- 
hags,  he  shot  off  his  pistol,  and  turned  to  run.  But  his 
women  caught  hold  of  him  by  the  flying  white  robe,  think- 
ing that  he  was  about  to  soar  upward  out  of  their  sight. 

"  'Let  me  be,'  he  cried,  with  a  great  sailor  oath;  and  tear- 
ing away  from  them,  he  left  half  the  linen  cloth  in  their 
hands,  and  betook  him  to  his  heels. 

"  Anton  Lennox  went  after  him  hot  foot,  and  there  they 


122  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

had  it,  like  coursing  dogs,  upon  the  level  moor.  It  was 
noble  sport.  I  laughed  till  David  Jamie  was  nearly  choked 
in  the  moss  with  me  rocking  to  and  fro  upon  him.  Anton 
Lennox  was  twice  the  age  of  John  Gib,  but  Muckle  John 
being  a  sailor  man,  accustomed  only  to  the  short  deck,  and 
also  having  his  running  gear  out  of  order  by  his  manner  of 
life,  did  exceedingly  pant  and  blow.  Yet  for  a  time  he 
managed  to  keep  ahead  of  his  pursuer.  But  there  was  no 
ultimate  city  of  refuge  for  him. 

"  Anton  Lennox  followed  after  him  a  little  stiffly,  with  a 
grim  determined  countenance;  and  as  he  ran  I  saw  him 
shorten  his  cudgel  of  crabtree  in  his  hand.  Presently  he 
came  up  with  the  muckle  man  of  Borrowstounness.  The 
great  stick  whistled  through  the  air,  soughing  like  a  willow- 
wand.  Once,  twice,  thrice  —  it  rose  and  fell. 

"  And  the  sound  that  ensued  was  like  the  beating  of  a 
sack  of  meal. 

" '  I'll  learn  you  to  burn  the  Bible  ! '  cried  Anton,  as  he 
still  followed.  His  arm  rose  and  fell  steadily  while  John 
Gib  continued  to  run  as  if  the  dogs  were  after  him.  The 
great  hulk  cried  out  with  the  intolerable  pain  of  the 
blows. 

" '  I'll  mak'  ye  Sweet  Singers  a',  by  my  faith  !  I'll  score 
ilka  point  o'  your  paper  screed  on  your  back,  my  man  — 
Sunday,  Monday,  Tuesday,  Pasch,  Beltan,  and  Yule  ! ' 

"  At  the  Yule  stroke  John  Gib  fell  into  a  moss-hole.  We 
could  not  easily  see  what  followed  then.  But  the  grievous 
cudgel  steadfastly  rose  and  fell  like  the  flail  of  a  man  that 
threshes  corn  in  a  barn,  and  a  howling  and  roaring  that  was 
aught  but  sweet  singing  came  to  us  over  the  moor. 

"  Presently  Anton  returned,  striding  back  to  where  I  sat 
upon  David  Jamie  his  back. 

" '  Rise  ! '  he  said.     And  that  was  all  he  said. 

"  But  he  took  his  foot  and  turned   the   bit  clerk  over, 


THE  SWEET  SINGERS  OF  THE  DEER-SLUNK.        123 

pulling  him  out  of  the  moss  with  a  chop  like  the  cork  being 
drawn  out  of  a  brisk  bottle  of  small  ale. 

"'David,  lad,  do  ye  renounce  John  Gib  and  all  his  ways?' 

"  The  limber-limbed  student  looked  doubtful,  but  the  sight 
of  the  cudgel  and  the  distant  sound  of  the  sweet  singing  of 
Muckle  John  decided  him. 

" '  Ay,'  he  said.  '  I  am  content  to  renounce  them  and 
him.' 

" '  See  ye  and  stick  to  it  then  ! '  said  Anton,  and  went 
after  Walter  Ker  and  John  Young,  who  stood  together  as 
though  they  had  gotten  a  dead  stroke. 

" '  Ye  saw  visions,  did  ye  ? '  he  said.  '  See  ye  if  this  be 
a  vision  ? ' 

"  And  he  gave  them  certain  dour  strokes  on  their  bodies, 
for  they  were  strong  carles  and  could  bide  the  like  —  not 
like  the  poor  feckless  loon  of  a  colleger. 

" '  Did  ye  see  a  light  shining  in  the  moss  late  yestreen  ? ' 
he  asked  them. 

" '  It  was  but  glow-worms  ! '  said  Walter  Ker. 

"  <  It  was,  aiblins,  Wull-o'-the-Wisp? '  said  John  Young. 

"  '  Ay,  that's  mair  like  the  thing,  noo  ! '  said  Auld  Anton, 
with  something  like  a  smile  on  his  face. 

"  So  saying  he  drove  all  the  women  (save  two  or  three 
that  had  scattered  over  the  moss)  before  him,  till  we  came 
to  the  place  of  the  ordinary  Societies'  Meeting  at  How- 
muir,  from  which  we  set  out. 

"Here  were  assembled  sundry  of  the  husbands  of  the 
women  —  for  the  black  shame  of  it  was,  that  the  most  part  of 
them  were  wives  and  mothers  of  families,  of  an  age  when 
the  faults  of  youth  were  no  longer  either  temptation  or 
excuse. 

"  To  them  he  delivered  up  the  women ;  each  to  her  own 
husband,  with  certain  advice. 

" '  I  have  wrestled  with  the  men,'  he  said,  '  and  overcome 


124  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

them.  Wrestle  ye  with  the  women,  that  are  your  own 
according  to  the  flesh.  And  if  ye  think  that  my  oaken 
stave  is  too  sore,  discharge  your  duty  with  a  birch  rod,  of 
the  thickness  of  your  little  finger  —  for  it  is  the  law  of  the 
realm  of  Scotland  that  every  husband  is  allowed  to  give  his 
wife  reasonable  correction  therewith.  But  gin  ye  need  my 
staff  or  gin  your  wives  prefer  it,  it  is  e'en  at  your  service.' 

"So  saying,  he  threw  his  plaid  over  his  shoulder,  and 
made  for  the  door. 

" '  Learn  them  a'  the  sweet  singin','  he  said.  '  John  Gib 
was  grand  at  it.  He  sang  like  a  mavis  oot  by  there,  on  the 
moor  at  the  Deer-Slunk.'  " 

This  was  the  matter  of  Sandy's  cheerful  tale  about  John 
Gib  and  Auld  Anton  Lennox. 

And  this  cured  Sandy  of  some  part  of  his  extremes, 
though  to  my  thinking  at  times,  he  had  been  none  the  worse 
of  Auld  Anton  at  his  elbow  to  give  him  a  lesson  or  two  in 
sweet  singing.  I  might  not  in  that  case  have  had  to  buy  all 
over  again  the  bonny  house  of  Earlstoun,  and  so  had  more 
to  spend  upon  Afton,  which  is  now  mine  own  desirable  resi- 
dence. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   HOME  OF  MY  LOVE. 

ANTHONY  LENNOX  presently  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  led 
me  over  to  where  in  the  Duchrae  kitchen  the  dark  young 
man  sat,  whose  noble  head  and  carriage  I  had  remarked. 

"Mr.  Cameron,"  he  said  gravely,  and  with  respect,  "this 
is  the  son  of  a  brave  man  and  princely  contender  with  his 
Master — William  Gordon  of  Earlstoun,  lately  gone  from  us." 

And  for  the  first  time  I  gave  my  hand  to  Richard  Cameron, 
whom  men  called  the  Lion  of  the  Covenant  —  a  great  hill- 
preacher,  who,  strangely  enough,  like  some  others  of  the 
prominent  disaffected  to  the  Government,  had  been  bred 
of  the  party  of  Prelacy. 

As  I  looked  upon  him  I  saw  that  he  was  girt  with  a  sword, 
and  that  he  had  a  habit  of  gripping  the  hilt  when  he  spoke, 
as  though  at  the  pinch  he  had  yet  another  argument  which 
all  might  understand.  And  being  a  soldier's  son  I  own 
that  I  liked  him  the  better  for  it.  Then  I  remembered 
what  (it  was  reported)  he  had  said  on  the  Holms  of  Kirk- 
mahoe  when  he  preached  there. 

"  I  am  no  reed  to  be  shaken  with  the  wind,  as  Charles 
Stuart  shall  one  day  know." 

And  it  was  here  that  I  got  my  first  waft  of  the  new 
tongue  which  these  hill-folk  spake  among  themselves.  I 
heard  of  "singular  Christians,"  and  concerning  the  evils 
of  paying  the  "cess"  or  King's  tax  —  things  of  which  I 
had  never  heard  in  my  father's  house,  the  necessity  not 
having  arisen  before  Bothwell  to  discuss  these  questions. 

125 


126  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

When  all  the  men  were  gathered  into  the  wide  house- 
place,  some  sitting,  some  standing,  the  grave-faced  woman 
knocked  with  her  knuckles  gently  on  a  door  which  opened 
into  an  inner  room.  Instantly  Maisie  Lennox  and  other 
two  maids  came  out  bearing  refreshments,  which  they 
handed  round  to  all  that  were  in  the  house.  The  carriage 
of  one  of  these  three  surprised  me  much,  and  I  observed 
that  my  cousin  Wat  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her. 

"Who  may  these  maids  be?  "  he  whispered  in  my  ear. 

"Nay,  but  I  ken  not  them  all,"  I  answered.  "Bide, 
and  we  shall  hear."  For,  indeed,  I  knew  only  one  of 
them,  but  her  very  well. 

And  when  they  came  to  us  in  our  turn,  Maisie  Lennox 
nodded  to  me  as  to  a  friend  of  familiar  discourse,  to  whom 
nothing  needs  to  be  explained.  And  she  that  was  the  tallest 
of  the  maids  handed  Wat  the  well-curled  oaten  cake  on  a 
trencher.  Then  he  rose  and  bowed  courteously  to  her, 
whereat  there  was  first  a  silence  and  then  a  wonder  among 
the  men  in  the  house,  for  the  manner  of  the  reverence  was 
strange  to  the  stiff  backs  of  the  hill-folk.  But  Anthony 
Lennox  stilled  them,  telling  of  the  introduction  he  had 
gotten  concerning  Walter,  and  that  both  our  fathers  had 
made  a  good  end  for  the  faith,  so  that  we  were  presently 
considered  wholly  free  of  the  meeting. 

We  heard  that  there  was  to  be  a  field  conventicle  near 
by,  at  which  Mr.  Cameron  was  to  preach.  This  was  the 
reason  of  so  great  a  gathering,  many  having  come  out  of 
Ayrshire,  and  even  as  far  as  Lesmahagow  in  the  Upper 
Ward  of  Lanark,  where  there  are  many  very  zealous  for  the 
truth. 

Then  they  fell  again  to  the  talking,  while  I  noted  how 
the  maids  comported  themselves.  The  eldest  of  them  and 
the  tallest,  was  a  lass  of  mettle,  with  dark,  bent  brows. 
She  held  her  head  high,  and  seemed,  by  her  attiring  and 


THE  HOME  OF  MY  LOVE.  127 

dignity,  accustomed  to  other  places  than  this  moorland 
farm-town.  Yet  here  she  was,  handing  victual  like  a  ser- 
vitor, before  a  field-preaching.  And  this  I  was  soon  to 
learn  was  a  common  thing  in  Galloway,  where  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  gentry,  and  still  more  of  their  wives  and 
daughters,  were  on  the  side  of  the  Covenant.  It  was  no 
uncommon  thing  for  a  King's  man,  when  he  was  disturbing 
a  conventicle  —  "  skailing  a  bees'  byke  "  as  it  was  called  — 
to  come  on  his  own  wife's  or,  it  might  be,  his  daughter's 
palfrey,  tethered  in  waiting  to  the  root  of  some  birk-tree. 

"Keep  your  black-tailcoats  closer  in  by!"  said  Duke 
Rothes  once  to  his  lady,  who  notoriously  harboured  outed 
preachers,  "or  I  shall  have  to  do  some  of  them  a  hurt! 
Ca'  your  messans  to  your  foot,  else  I'll  hae  to  kennel  them 
for  ye ! " 

There  was  however  no  such  safe  hiding  as  in  some  of  the 
great  houses  of  the  strict  persecutors. 

So  in  a  little  while,  the  most  part  of  the  company  going 
out,  this  tall,  dark-browed  maid  was  made  known  to  us  by 
Matthew  of  the  Dub,  as  Mistress  Kate  McGhie,  daughter 
of  the  Laird  of  Balmaghie,  within  which  parish  we  were. 

Then  Maisie  Lennox  beckoned  to  the  third  maid,  and 
she  came  forward  with  shyness  and  grace.  She  was  younger 
than  the  other  two,  and  seemed  to  be  a  well-grown  lass  of 
thirteen  or  fourteen. 

"This,"  said  Maisie  Lennox,  "is  my  cousin  Margaret  of 
Glen  Vernock." 

The  maid  whom  she  so  named  blushed,  and  spoke  to 
us  in  the  broader  accent  of  the  Shire,  yet  pleasantly  and 
frankly  as  one  well  reared. 

Presently  there  came  to  us  the  taller  maid  —  she  who 
was  called  Kate,  the  Laird's  daughter. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  me. 

"Ah,  Will  of  Earlstoun,  I  have  heard  of  you!" 


128  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

I  answered  that  I  hoped  it  was  for  good. 

"It  was  from  Maisie  there  that  I  heard  it,"  she  said, 
which  indeed  told  me  nothing.  But  Kate  McGhie  shook 
her  head  at  us,  which  tempted  me  to  think  her  a  flighty 
maid.  However,  I  remembered  her  words  often  after- 
wards when  I  was  in  hiding. 

Thereupon  I  presented  my  cousin  Wat  to  her,  and  they 
bowed  to  one  another  with  a  very  courtly  grace.  I  declare 
it  was  pretty  to  see  them,  and  also  most  strange  in  a  house 
where  the  hill-folk  were  gathered  together.  But  for  the 
sake  of  my  father  and  brother  we  were  never  so  much  as 
questioned. 

Presently  there  was  one  came  to  the  door,  and  cried  that 
the  preaching  was  called  and  about  to  begin.  So  we  took 
our  bonnets  and  the  maids  their  shawls  about  them,  and  set 
forth.  It  was  a  grey,  unkindly  day,  and  the  clouds  hung 
upon  the  heights.  There  are  many  woods  of  pine  and  oak 
about  the  Duchrae;  and  we  went  through  one  of  them  to 
an  ancient  moat-hill  or  place  of  defence  on  a  hillside,  with 
a  ditch  about  it  of  three  or  four  yards  wideness,  which 
overlooked  the  narrow  pack  road  by  the  water's  edge. 

As  we  went  Kate  McGhie  walked  by  my  side,  and  we 
talked  together.  She  told  me  that  she  came  against  her 
parents'  will,  though  not  without  her  father's  knowledge; 
and  that  it  was  her  great  love  for  Maisie  Lennox,  who  was 
her  friend  and  gossip,  which  had  first  drawn  her  to  a  belief 
in  the  faith  of  the  hill-folk. 

"But  there  is  one  thing,"  said  she,  "that  I  cannot  hold 
with  them  in.  I  am  no  rebel,  and  I  care  not  to  disown 
the  authority  of  the  King ! " 

"  Yet  you  look  not  like  a  sufferer  in  silence ! "  I  said, 
smiling  at  her.  "Are  you  a  maid  of  the  Quaker  folk?  " 

At  which  she  was  fain  to  laugh  and  deny  it. 

"But,"  I  said,  "if  you  are  a  King's  woman,  you  will 


THE  HOME  OF  MY  LOVE.  129 

surely  find  yourself  in  a  strange  company  to-day.  Yet 
there  is  one  here  of  the  same  mind  as  yourself." 

Then  she  entreated  me  to  tell  her  who  that  might  be. 

"Oh,  not  I,"  I  replied,  "I  have  had  enough  of  Charles 
Stuart.  I  could  eat  with  ease  all  I  like  of  him,  or  his 
brother  either!  It  is  my  cousin  of  Lochinvar,  who  has 
been  lately  put  to  the  horn  and  outlawed." 

At  the  name  she  seemed  much  surprised. 

"It  were  well  not  to  name  him  here,"  she  said,  "for  the 
chief  men  know  of  his  past  companying  with  Claverhouse 
and  other  malignants,  and  they  might  distrust  his  honesty 
and  yours." 

We  had  other  pleasant  talk  by  the  way,  and  she  told  me 
of  all  her  house,  of  her  uncle  that  was  at  Kirkcudbright 
with  Captain  Winram  and  the  garrison  there,  and  of  her 
father  that  had  forbidden  her  to  go  to  the  field-meetings. 

"Which  is  perhaps  why  I  am  here!"  she  said,  glancing 
at  me  with  her  bold  black  eyes. 

As  I  went  I  could  hear  behind  us  the  soft  words  and  low 
speech  of  Maisie  Lennox,  who  came  with  my  cousin  Wat 
and  Margaret  of  Glen  Vernock.  What  was  the  matter  of 
their  speech  I  could  not  discover,  though  I  own  I  was  eager 
to  learn.  But  they  seemed  to  agree  well  together,  which 
seemed  strange  to  me,  for  I  was  a  much  older  acquaintance 
than  he. 

Now,  especially  when  in  the  wilder  places,  we  came  to 
walk  all  four  together,  it  seemed  a  very  pleasant  thing  to 
me  to  go  thus  to  the  worship  of  God  in  company.  And 
I  began  from  that  hour  to  think  kindlier  of  the  field-folks' 
way  of  hearing  a  preacher  in  the  open  country.  This,  as 
I  well  know,  says  but  little  for  me;  yet  I  will  be  plain  and 
conceal  nothing  of  the  way  by  which  I  was  led  from  being 
a  careless  and  formal  home-keeper,  to  cast  in  my  lot  with 
the  remnant  who  abode  in  the  fields  and  were  persecuted. 
K 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE  GREAT  CONVENTICLE  BY  THE  DEE  WATER. 

A  Note  to  the  Reader. 

I  am  warned  that  there  are  many  folk  who  care 
not  to  hear  what  things  were  truly  said  and  done 
at  a  conventicle  of  the  hill-folk.  I  have  told  the 
tale  so  that  such  may  omit  the  reading  of  these  two 
chapters.  Nevertheless,  if  they  will  take  a  friend's 
word,  it  might  be  for  their  advantage  to  read  the 
whole.  W.  G. 

ON  our  way  to  the  conventicle  we  came  to  the  place  that 
is  called  the  Moat  of  the  Duchrae  Bank,  and  found  much 
people  already  gathered  there.  It  is  a  very  lonely  place  on 
the  edge  of  a  beautiful  and  still  water,  called  the  Lane  of 
Grenoch.  In  the  midst  of  the  water,  and  immediately  oppo- 
site to  the  moat,  there  is  an  island,  called  the  Hollan  Isle,  full 
of  coverts  and  hiding-places  among  hazel  bushes,  which  grow 
there  in  thick  matted  copses.  Beyond  that  again  there  are 
only  the  moors  and  the  mountains  for  thirty  miles.  The  coun- 
try all  about  is  lairy  and  boggy,  impossible  for  horses  to  ride ; 
while  over  to  the  eastward  a  little,  the  main  road  passes  to 
Kells  and  Carsphairn,  but  out  of  sight  behind  the  shoulder 
of  the  hill. 

There  was  a  preaching-tent  erected  on  a  little  eminence 
in  the  middle  of  the  round  bare  top  of  the  moat.  The  peo- 
ple sat  all  about,  and  those  who  arrived  late  clustered  on 
the  farther  bank,  across  the  ditch. 

130 


THE  GREAT  CONVENTICLE  BY  THE  DEE  WATER.    131 

I  observed  that  every  man  came  fully  armed.  For  the 
oppressions  of  Lauderdale  in  Scotland,  and  especially  the 
severities  of  John  Graham  and  Robert  Grier  in  Galloway, 
were  bearing  their  own  proper  fruit.  The  three  maids  sat 
together,  and  Wat  Gordon  and  I  sat  down  near  them  —  I  as 
close  to  Maisie  Lennox  as  I  dared,  because,  for  old  acquaint- 
ance' sake,  my  liking  was  chiefly  towards  her.  Also,  I  per- 
ceived that  Kate  McGhie  was  more  interested  to  talk  to  me 
of  my  cousin  than  to  hear  concerning  myself,  a  thing  I  never 
could  abide  in  talking  to  a  woman. 

But  Maisie  kept  her  head  bent,  and  her  face  hidden  by 
the  fold  of  her  shawl.  For  she  had,  even  at  that  time,  what 
I  so  sadly  lacked,  a  living  interest  in  religion. 

From  where  I  sat  I  could  see  the  watchers  on  the  craigs 
above  the  Hollan  Isle,  and  those  also  over  on  the  hill  by  the 
Folds.  So  many  were  they,  that  I  felt  that  not  a  muir- 
fowl  would  cry,  nor  a  crow  carry  a  stick  to  its  nest,  without 
a  true  man  taking  note  of  it.  I  heard  afterwards,  that  over 
by  the  Fords  of  Crae  they  had  come  on  a  certain  informer 
lying  couched  in  the  heather  to  watch  what  should  happen. 
Him  they  chased  for  three  miles  over  the  heather  by  Slogarie, 
clodding  him  with  divots  of  peat  and  sod,  yet  not  so  as  to 
do  the  ill-set  rascal  overmuch  harm.  But  a  sound  clouring 
does  such-like  good. 

Then  there  arose  the  pleasant  sound  of  singing.  For  Mr. 
Cameron  had  gone  up  into  the  preaching-tent  and  given 
out  the  psalm.  We  all  stood  up  to  sing,  and  as  I  noted  my 
cousin  standing  apart,  looking  uncertainly  about,  I  went  over 
to  him  and  brought  him  to  my  side,  where  one  gave  us  a 
book  to  look  upon  together.  As  they  sang,  I  watched  to 
see  the  sentinel  on  the  craigs  turn  him  about  to  listen  to  us, 
and  noted  the  light  glance  on  his  sword,  and  on  the  barrel 
of  the  musket  on  which  he  leaned.  For  these  little  tricks 
of  observation  were  ever  much  to  me,  though  the  true  Whig 


132  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

folk  minded  them  not  a  hair,  but  stuck  to  their  singing,  as 
indeed  it  was  their  duty  to  do. 

But  even  to  me,  the  sound  of  the  psalm  was  unspeakably 
solemn  and  touching  out  there  in  the  open  fields.  It  seemed, 
as  we  sang  of  the  God  who  was  our  refuge  and  our  strength, 
that  as  we  looked  on  Grenoch,  we  were  indeed  in  a  defenced 
city,  in  a  prophesied  place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams, 
wherein  should  go  no  galley  with  oars,  neither  should  gallant 
ship  pass  thereby. 

I  had  never  before  felt  so  near  God,  nor  had  so  sweet 
an  income  of  gladness  upon  my  spirit ;  though  I  had  often 
wondered  what  it  all  meant  when  I  heard  my  father  and 
mother  speak  together.  There  seemed,  indeed,  a  gale  of 
the  Spirit  upon  the  meeting,  and  I  think  that  from  that 
moment  I  understood  more  of  the  mind  of  them  that  suf- 
fered for  their  faith ;  which,  indeed,  I  think  a  man  cannot 
do,  till  he  himself  is  ready  to  undergo  his  share  of  the 
suffering. 

But  when  Richard  Cameron  began  to  speak,  I  easily 
forgat  everything  else.  He  had  a  dominating  voice,  the 
voice  of  a  strong  man  crying  in  the  wilderness.  "  We  are 
here  in  a  kenned  place,"  he  said,  "  and  there  be  many  wit- 
nesses about  us.  To-day  the  bitter  is  taken  out  of  our  cup, 
if  it  be  only  for  a  moment.  Yea,  and  a  sweet  cup  we  have 
of  it  now.  We  who  have  been  much  on  the  wild  mountains, 
know  what  it  is  to  be  made  glad  by  Thy  works — the  works 
of  the  Lord's  hands.  When  we  look  up  to  the  moon  or 
stars,  lo  !  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  in  them,  and  we  are  glad. 
See  ye  the  corn-rigs  up  ayont  us  there,  on  the  Duchrae 
Hill  —  the  hand  of  God  is  in  the  sweet  springing  of  them, 
when  the  sun  shines  upon  them  after  rain.  And  it  is  He 
who  sendeth  forth  every  pile  of  the  grass  that  springs  so 
sweetly  in  the  meadows  by  the  water-side." 

I  own  it  was  very  pleasant  to  me  to  listen  to  him,  for  I 


THE  GREAT  CONVENTICLE  BY  THE  DEE  WATER.    133 

had  not  thought  there  was  such  tenderness  in  the  man.  He 
went  on : 

"We  are  hirsled  over  moss  and  moor,  over  crags  and 
rocks,  and  headlong  after  us  the  devil  drives.  Be  not 
crabbit  with  us,  O  Lord  !  It  is  true  we  have  gotten  many 
calls,  and  have  not  answered.  We  in  the  West  and  South 
have  been  like  David,  cockered  and  pampered  overmuch. 
Not  even  the  wild  Highlands  have  sitten  through  so  many 
calls  as  we  have  done  here  in  Galloway  and  the  South. 

"  For  I  bear  testimony  that  it  is  not  easy  to  bring  folk  to 
Christ.  I,  that  am  a  man  weak  as  other  men,  bear  testi- 
mony that  it  is  not  easy — no  easy  even  to  come  to  Him 
for  oneself ! " 

And  here  I  saw  the  people  begin  to  yearn  towards  the 
preacher,  and  in  the  grey  light  I  saw  the  tears  running 
silently  down  his  cheeks.  And  it  seemed  as  if  both  the 
minister  and  also  the  most  part  of  the  people  fell  into  a 
rapture  of  calm  weeping,  which,  strangely  enough,  forced 
Mr.  Cameron  often  to  break  off  short.  Folks'  hearts  were 
easily  touched  in  those  days  of  peril. 

"Are  there  none  such  here?"  he  asked.  And  I  confess 
my  heart  went  out  to  him  and  all  my  sins  stood  black  and 
threatening  before  me  as  I  listened.  I  vow  that  at  the  time 
I  feared  his  words  far  more  than  ever  I  did  Lag  and  his 
riders  —  this  being  my  first  living  experience  of  religion, 
and  the  day  from  which  I  and  many  another  ground  our 
hope. 

Then  ere  he  sufficiently  commanded  himself  to  speak 
again,  I  took  a  glance  at  the  maid  Maisie  Lennox  beside 
me,  and  the  look  on  her  face  was  that  on  the  face  of  a 
martyr  who  has  come  through  the  torture  and  won  the  vic- 
tory. But  the  little  lass  that  was  called  Margaret  of  Glen 
Vernock  clung  to  her  hand  and  wept  as  she  listened.  As 
for  Kate  McGhie,  she  only  looked  away  over  the  water  of 


134  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  Hollan  Isle  to  the  blue  barn  rigging  of  the  Orchar  Hill 
and  seemed  neither  to  see  nor  to  hear  anything.  Or  at 
least,  I  was  not  the  man  to  whom  was  given  the  art  to  see 
what  were  her  inner  thoughts. 

Richard  Cameron  went  on. 

"  Are  there  any  here  that  find  a  difficulty  to  close  with 
Christ  ?  But  before  we  speak  to  that,  I  think  we  shall  pray 
a  short  word." 

So  all  the  people  stood  up  on  the  hillside  and  the  sough  of 
their  uprising  was  like  the  wind  among  the  cedar  trees.  And 
even  as  he  prayed  for  the  Spirit  to  come  on  these  poor  folk, 
that  were  soon  to  be  scattered  again  over  the  moors  and 
hags  as  sheep  that  wanted  a  shepherd,  the  Wind  of  the  Lord 
(for  so  I  think  it  was)  came  breathing  upon  us.  The  grey 
of  the  clouds  broke  up,  and  for  an  hour  the  sun  shone 
through  so  kindly  and  warm  that  many  let  their  plaids  fall 
to  the  ground.  But  the  mists  still  clung  about  the  mountain 
tops  of  the  Bennan  and  Cairn  Edward. 

Then  after  he  had  prayed  not  long  but  fervently,  he  went 
on  again  to  speak  to  us  of  the  love  and  sufferings  of  Christ, 
for  the  sake  of  whose  cause  and  kingdom  we  were  that  day 
in  this  wild  place.  Much  he  pleaded  with  us  to  make  sure 
of  our  interest,  and  not  think  that  because  we  were  here  in 
some  danger  at  a  field  preaching,  therefore  all  was  well.  O 
but  he  was  faithful  with  us  that  day,  and  there  were  many 
who  felt  that  the  gate  of  heaven  was  very  near  to  them 
at  the  great  conventicle  by  the  Water  of  Dee. 

And  even  after  many  years,  I  that  have  been  weak  and 
niddering,  and  that  have  taken  so  many  sins  on  my  soul, 
since  I  sat  there  on  the  bank  by  Maisie  Lennox,  and  trem- 
bled under  Mr.  Cameron's  words,  give  God  thank  and  ser- 
vice that  I  was  present  to  hear  the  Lion  of  the  Covenant 
roar  that  day  upon  the  mountains  of  Scotland. 

Yet  when  he  spoke  thus  to  us  at  this  part  of  his  pleading, 


THE  GREAT  CONVENTICLE  BY  THE  DEE  WATER.  135 

it  was  most  like  the  voice  of  a  tender  nursing  mother  that 
would  wile  her  wayward  bairns  home.  But  when  he  had 
done  with  offering  to  us  the  cross,  and  commending  Him 
that  erewhile  hung  thereon,  I  saw  him  pause  and  look  about 
him.  He  was  silent  for  a  space,  his  eyes  gleamed  with  an 
inner  fire,  and  the  wind  that  had  arisen  drave  among  his 
black  locks.  I  could  see,  as  it  had  been,  the  storm  gather 
to  break. 

"  There  ayont  us  are  the  Bennan  and  Cairn  Edward,  and 
the  Muckle  Craig  o'  Dee  —  look  over  at  them  —  I  take  them 
to  witness  this  day  that  I  have  preached  to  you  the  whole 
counsel  of  God.  There  be  some  great  professors  among 
you  this  day  who  have  no  living  grace  —  of  whom  I  only 
name  Black  MacMichael  and  Muckle  John,  for  their  sins 
are  open  and  patent,  going  before  them  into  judgment. 
There  are  also  some  here  that  will  betray  our  plans  to  the 
enemy,  and  carry  their  report  of  this  meeting  to  the  Malig- 
nants.  To  them  I  say :  '  Carry  this  word  to  your  masters, 
the  word  of  a  wiser  than  I,  "  Ye  may  blaw  your  bag-pipes 
till  you  burst,  we  will  not  bow  down  and  worship  your 
glaiks  —  no,  not  though  ye  gar  every  heid  here  weigh  its 
tail,  and  the  wind  whistle  through  our  bones  as  we  hang  on 
the  gallows-tree." ' " 

Here  he  held  up  his  hand  and  there  was  a  great  silence. 

"  Hush  !  I  hear  the  sound  of  a  great  host  —  I  see  the  gate 
of  heaven  beset.  The  throng  of  them  that  are  to  be  saved 
through  suffering,  are  about  it.  And  One  like  unto  the  Son 
of  Man  stands  there  to  welcome  them.  What  though  they 
set  your  heads,  as  they  shall  mine,  high  on  the  Netherbow 
Port  j  or  cast  your  body  on  the  Gallows'  dunghill  as  they 
will  Sandy's  here  ?  Know  ye  that  there  waiteth  for  you  at 
the  door  One  with  face  more  marred  than  that  of  any  man  — 
One  with  His  garments  red  coming  up  from  Bozrah,  One 
that  hath  trodden  the  winepress  alone.  And  He  shall  say,  as 


136  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

He  sees  you  come  through  the  swellings  of  Jordan,  '  These 
are  they  that  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  have 
washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb.'  'Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be 
ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  for  the  redeemed  of  the 
Lord  shall  also  enter  in  ! '  " 

So  he  made  an  end,  and  all  the  people  were  astonished 
at  him,  because  they  looked  even  then  for  the  chariot  which 
it  had  been  foretold  should  come  and  snatch  him  out  of 
mortal  sight. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PEDEN  THE  PROPHET. 
(Being  the  concluding  of  the  conventicle  by  the  Dee  Water?) 

YET  the  chariot  of  fire  came  not,  for  the  time  was  not  yet, 
though  the  grinding  of  its  wheels  was  even  then  to  be  heard 
at  the  door.  But  the  Lord  had  yet  a  great  day's  darg  to  do 
in  Scotland  with  Richard  Cameron. 

Then  after  silence  had  endured  for  a  time,  another  minis- 
ter rose  up  to  speak  to  us.  At  sight  of  him  a  murmur  went 
about,  and  wonder  and  joy  sat  on  every  face.  He  was  an 
old  man,  tall  and  gaunt.  His  hair,  lyart  and  long,  fell  upon 
his  shoulders.  His  beard  descended  upon  his  breast. 

"  Peden  the  Prophet !  "  was  the  whisper  that  went  about. 
And  all  bent  eagerly  forward  to  look  at  the  famous  wan- 
derer, whom  all  held  to  have  gifts  of  utterance  and  prophecy 
beyond  those  of  mortal.  He  it  was  that  had  been  a  thou- 
sand times  hunted  like  a  partridge  upon  the  mountains,  a 
hundred  times  taken  in  the  net,  yet  had  ever  escaped.  He 
it  was  for  the  love  of  whom  men  had  laid  down  their  lives 
like  water,  only  that  Alexander  Peden  might  go  scatheless 
and  speak  his  Master's  will. 

Bowed  he  was  and  broken ;  yet  when  he  spoke  his  natural 
strength  was  in  no  wise  abated,  and  at  his  first  word  the  fear 
of  the  Lord  came  upon  us.  I  looked  at  Lochinvar,  who  in 
his  time  had  ridden  so  hard  on  his  track.  He  sat  open- 
mouthed,  and  there  was  a  daze  of  awe  in  his  look. 

Alexander  Peden  had  hardly  spoken  a  sentence  to  us 
when  the  spirit  of  prophecy  brake  upon  him,  and  he  cried 


138  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

out  for  Scotland  as  was  his  wont  in  those  days.  His  voice 
rose  and  rang  —  not  like  a  war- trumpet  as  did  Cameron's, 
but  rather  like  the  wild  wind  that  goes  about  the  house  and 
about  the  house,  and  cries  fearful  words  in  at  the  chinks  and 
crevices. 

"  A  bloody  sword,  a  bloody  sword  for  thee,  O  puir  Scot- 
land !  Many  a  mile  shall  they  travel  in  thee  and  see  naught 
but  waste  places,  nor  so  much  as  a  house  reeking  pleasantly 
on  the  brae.  Many  a  conventicle  has  been  wared  on  thee, 
my  Scotland.  And  Welsh  and  Semple,  Cameron  and  Cargill 
have  cried  to  thee.  But  ere  long  they  shall  all  be  put  to 
silence  and  God  shall  preach  to  thee  only  with  the  bloody 
sword.  Have  ye  never  witnessed  for  the  cause  and  Cove- 
nants ?  Or  have  ye  been  dumb  dogs  that  would  not  bark  ? 
If  that  be  so,  as  sayeth  godly  Mr.  Guthrie  of  Fenwick,  God 
will  make  the  tongues  that  owned  Him  not  to  fry  and  flutter 
upon  the  hot  coals  of  hell.  He  will  gar  them  blatter  and 
bleeze  upon  the  burning  coals  of  hell ! 

"  Speak,  sirs,  or  He  will  gar  these  tongues  that  He  hath 
put  into  your  mouths  to  popple  and  play  in  the  pow-pot  of 
hell ! " 

As  he  said  these  words  his  eyes  shone  upon  us  like  to 
burn  us  through,  and  his  action  was  most  terrifying  as  he 
took  his  great  oaken  staff  and  shook  it  over  us.  And  we 
fairly  trembled  beneath  him  like  silly  bairns  taken  in  a  wrong. 

But  he  went  on  his  way  as  one  that  cries  for  vengeance 
over  an  open  grave  in  which  a  slain  man  lies. 

"  Ye  think  that  there  hath  been  bloodshed  in  Scotland, 
and  so  there  hath  —  dear  and  precious  —  but  I  tell  you  that 
that  which  hath  been,  is  but  as  the  dropping  of  the  morning 
cloud  ere  the  sun  rises  in  his  strength,  to  the  raid-noon 
thunder  plump  that  is  yet  to  come. 

"  Not  since  the  black  day  of  Bothwell  have  I  slept  in  a 
bed  !  I  have  been  Nazarite  for  the  vow  that  was  upon  me. 


PEDEN  THE  PROPHET.  139 

Have  any  of  you  that  are  here  seen  me  in  New  Luce  ?  Not 
even  Ritchie  here  could  have  overcrowed  me  then,  for 
strength  and  stature.  I  stood  as  a  young  tree  by  the  river  of 
waters.  Look  upon  me  now  —  so  crooked  by  the  caves  and 
the  moss-hags  that  I  could  not  go  upright  to  the  scaffold. 
The  sword  handle  is  fit  for  your  hands,  and  the  Lord  of 
Battles  give  you  long  arms  when  you  measure  swords  with 
Charles  Stuart  But  old  Sandy  is  good  for  nothing  now 
but  the  praying.  He  can  only  bide  in  his  hole  like  a  tooth- 
less tyke,  lame  and  blind ;  and  girn  his  gums  at  the  robbers 
that  spoil  his  master's  house. 

" '  Crook-back,  crab-heart,  sayeth  the  proverb,"  Peden 
cried,  "  but  I  think  not  so,  for  my  heart  is  warm  this  day 
toward  you  that  sit  here,  for  but  few  of  you  shall  win  through 
the  day  of  wrath  that  is  to  come  in  Scotland. ); 

He  turned  towards  the  place  where  we  sat  together,  the 
maids,  my  cousin  and  I.  A  great  fear  in  my  heart  chilled 
me  like  ice.  Was  he  to  denounce  us  as  traitors?  But  he 
only  said  slowly  these  words  in  a  soft  and  moving  voice,  as 
one  that  hath  the  tears  close  behind. 

"  And  there  are  some  of  you,  young  maids  and  weak,  here 
present,  that  shall  make  a  name  in  Scotland,  a  name  that  shall 
never  die  ! " 

With  that  he  made  an  end  and  sat  down. 

Then  came  one,  white-face  and  panting  from  the  hill  on 
the  east. 

"  The  riders  are  upon  us  —  flee  quickly  !  '*  he  cried. 

Then,  indeed,  there  was  great  confusion  and  deray. 
Some  rose  up  in  act  to  flee.  But  Anton  Lennox,  who  had 
the  heart  of  a  soldier  in  him  and  the  wit  of  a  general,  com- 
manded the  men  to  stand  to  their  arms,  putting  the  women 
behind  them.  And  through  the  confusion  I  could  see 
stern-faced  men  moving  to  the  front  with  guns  and  swords 
in  their  hands.  These,  as  I  learned,  were  the  disciplined 


*40       t  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

members  of  the  Praying  Societies,  whom  Cameron  and  after- 
wards Renwick,  drew  together  into  one  military  bond  of 
defence  and  fellowship. 

For  me  I  stood  where  I  was,  the  maids  only  being  with 
me ;  and  I  felt  that,  come  what  might,  it  was  my  duty  to 
protect  them.  Kate  McGhie  clasped  her  hands  and  stood 
as  one  that  is  gripped  with  fear,  yet  can  master  it.  But 
Maisie  Lennox,  who  was  nearest  to  me,  looked  over  to 
where  her  father  stood  at  the  corner  ot  his  company. 
Then,  because  she  was  distressed  for  him  and  knew  not 
what  she  did,  she  drew  a  half-knitted  stocking  out  of  the 
pocket  that  swung  beneath  her  kirtle,  calmly  set  the  stitches 
in  order,  and  went  on  knitting  as  is  the  Galloway  custom 
among  the  hill-folk  when  they  wait  for  anything. 

There  was  a  great  silence  —  a  stillness  in  which  one  heard 
his  neighbour  breathing.  Through  it  the  voice  01  Peden 
rose. 

"Lord,"  he  prayed,  "it  is  Thine  enemies'  day.  Hour 
and  power  are  allowed  to  them.  They  may  not  be  idle. 
But  hast  Thou  no  other  work  for  them  to  do  in  their  mas- 
ter's service?  Send  them  after  those  to  whom  Thou  hast 
given  strength  to  flee,  for  .-ur  strength's  gone,  and  there  are 
many  weak  women  among  us  this  day.  Twine  them  about 
the  hill,  O  Lord,  and  cast  the  lap  of  Thy  cloak  over  puir 
Sandy  and  thir  puir  things,  and  save  us  this  one  time." 

So  saying  he  went  to  the  top  of  a  little  hill  near  by,  from 
which  there  is  a  wide  prospect.  It  is  called  Mount  Pleas- 
ant. From  thence  he  looked  all  round  and  waved  his 
hands  three  times.  And  in  a  minute  there  befel  a  wonder- 
ful thing.  For  even  as  his  hands  beckoned,  from  behind 
the  ridges  of  the  Duchrae  and  Drumglass,  arose  the  level 
tops  of  a  great  sea  of  mist.  It  came  upon  the  land  sud- 
denly as  the  "haar"  that  in  the  autumn  drives  up  the  east- 
ern valleys  from  the  sea.  Like  a  river  that  rises  behind  a 


PEDEN  THE  PROPHET.  141 

dam,  it  rose,  till  of  a  sudden  it  overflowed  and  came  towards 
us  over  the  moorland,  moving  with  a  sound  like  running 
water  very  far  away. 

Then  Peden  the  Prophet  came  hastening  back  to  us. 

"  Move  not  one  of  you  out  of  your  places  ! "  he  cried, 
"  for  the  Lord  is  about  to  send  upon  us  His  pillar  of  cloud." 
Then  the  mist  came,  and  made  by  little  and  little  a  very  thick 
darkness,  and  Peden  said  : 

"  Lads,  the  bitterest  of  the  blast  is  over.  We  shall  no 
more  be  troubled  with  them  this  day.*  And  through  the 
darkness  I  felt  a  hand  placed  in  mine  —  whose  I  could  not 
tell,  but  I  hoped  plainly  that  it  might  be  Maisie  Lennox's 
hand,  for,  as  I  have  said,  she  was  my  gossip  and  my  friend. 
At  least  I  heard  no  more  the  click  of  the  knitting-needles. 

The  mist  came  yet  thicker,  and  through  it  there  shone, 
now  and  then,  the  flickering  leme  of  pale  lightning,  that 
flashed  about  us  all.  Then  quite  suddenly  we  heard  strangely 
near  us  the  jangling  of  the  accoutrements  of  the  troopers  and 
the  sound  of  voices. 

"  Curse  the  Whig's  mist,  it  has  come  on  again !  We 
canna  steer  for  it ! "  cried  a  voice  so  near  that  the  hill-men 
stood  closer  in  their  ranks,  and  my  own  heart  leaped  till  I 
heard  it  beat  irregularly  within  me. 

We  marked  the  sharp  clip  clip  as  the  shod  horses  struck 
the  stones  with  their  feet.  Now  and  then  a  man  would 
clatter  over  his  steed's  head  as  the  poor  beast  bogged  or 
stumbled. 

Looking  over  between  the  hazel  trees,  I  could  faintly  dis- 
cern the  steel  caps  of  the  troopers  through  the  gloom,  as  they 
wound  in  single  file  between  us  and  the  water-side.  It  was 
but  a  scouting  party,  for  in  a  moment  we  heard  the  trumpet 
blow  from  the  main  body,  which  had  kept  the  road  that 
winds  down  to  the  old  ford,  over  the  Black  Water  on  the 
way  from  Kirkcudbright  to  New  Galloway  and  Kenmuir. 


142  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

In  a  little  the  sounds  came  fainter  on  our  ears,  and  the 
swing  and  trample  of  the  hoofs  grew  so  far  away  that  we 
could  not  hear  them  any  more. 

But  the  great  cloud  of  people  stood  for  long  time  still, 
no  man  daring  to  move.  It  struck  me  as  strange  that  in 
that  concourse  of  shepherds  not  so  much  as  a  dog  barked. 
In  a  moment  I  saw  the  reason.  Each  herd  was  sitting  on 
the  grass  with  his  dog's  head  in  his  lap,  wrapped  in  his 
plaid.  Then  came  the  scattering  of  the  great  meeting. 
Such  were  the  chances  of  our  life  at  that  dark  time,  when 
brother  might  part  from  brother  and  meet  no  more.  And 
when  a  father  might  go  out  to  look  the  lambs,  and  be  found 
by  his  daughter  fallen  on  his  face  on  the  heather  by  the 
sheep  ree,  with  that  on  his  breast  that  was  not  bonny  to  see 
when  they  turned  him  over.  As  for  me  I  went  home  with 
Maisie  Lennox  and  her  friend  the  young  lass  of  Glen  Ver- 
nock,  as  was  indeed  my  plain  duty.  We  walked  side  by 
side  in  silence,  for  we  had  great  thoughts  within  us  of  Cam- 
eron and  Peden,  and  of  the  Blue  Banner  of  the  Covenant 
that  was  not  yet  wholly  put  down. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

BIRSAY    THE    COBBLER. 

So  many  of  the  wanderers  abode  at  the  Duchrae  that 
Maisie  Lennox  was  much  cumbered  with  serving ;  yet  hi 
her  quiet  sedate  way  she  would  often  take  a  word  with  me 
in  the  bygoing,  as  if  to  let  me  feel  that  I  was  not  lonely  or 
forgotten.  And  it  cheered  me  much  to  find  that  I  was  not 
despised,  because  I  was  (as  yet)  no  great  fighting  man  of 
many  inches  or  noble  make  like  my  brother  Sandy.  Also  I 
loved  women's  converse,  having  been  much  with  my  mother 
—  indeed  never  long  away  from  her  side,  till  my  vain  ad- 
venturing forth  to  Edinburgh  in  the  matter  of  the  sequester- 
ing of  the  estate. 

As  for  Earlstoun,  we  heard  it  was  to  be  forfaulted  very 
soon,  and  given  to  Robert  Grier  of  Lag,  who  was  a  very  grab- 
all  among  them.  Indeed  no  one  was  better  than  another, 
for  even  Claverhouse  got  Freuch,  "in  consideration,"  it 
was  quaintly  said,  "  of  his  good  service  and  sufferings." 
His  brother  David  likewise  got  another  estate  in  the  Shire, 
and  Rothes  and  Lauderdale  were  as  "  free  coups  "  for  the 
wealth  of  the  fined  and  persecuted  gentry.  Whenever  there 
was  a  man  well-to-do  and  of  good  repute,  these  men  thought 
it  no  shame  to  strive  to  take  him  in  a  snare,  or  to  get  him 
caught  harbouring  on  his  estate  some  intercommuned  per- 
sons. They  rubbed  hands  and  nudged  one  another  in  Coun- 
cil when  they  heard  of  a  rising  in  arms.  They  even  cried 
out  and  shook  hands  for  joy,  because  it  gave  them  colour 
for  more  exactions,  and  also  for  keeping  an  army  hi  the  field, 


144  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

whose  providing  and  accoutring  was  also  very  profitable  for 
them. 

But  at  the  Duchrae  we  abode  fairly  secure.  At  night  we 
withdrew  to  the  barn,  where  behind  the  corn-mow  a  very 
safe  and  quaint  hiding-place  had  been  devised.  In  the 
barn-wall,  as  in  most  of  the  barns  in  that  country-side,  there 
were  no  windows  of  any  size  —  in  fact  nothing  save  a  num- 
ber of  three-cornered  wickets.  These  were  far  too  small  to 
admit  the  body  of  a  man ;  but  by  some  exercise  of  ingenious 
contrivance  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  an  evil  time,  the 
bottom  stone  of  one  of  these  wickets  had  been  so  constructed 
that  it  turned  outwards  upon  a  hinge,  which  so  enlarged  the 
opening  that  one  man  at  a  time  had  no  difficulty  in  passing 
through.  This  right  cunning  trap-door  was  in  the  gable-end 
of  the  barn,  and  conducted  the  fugitive  behind  the  corn-mow 
in  which  the  harvest  sheaves  were  piled  to  the  ceiling.  Here 
we  lay  many  a  time  while  the  troopers  raged  about  the  house 
itself,  stabbing  every  suspected  crevice  of  the  corn  and  hay 
with  their  blades,  but  leaving  us  quite  safe  behind  the  great 
pleasant-smelling  mass  of  the  mow. 

Yet  for  all  it  was  a  not  unquiet  time  with  us,  and  I  do 
not  deny  that  I  had  much  pleasant  fellowship  with  Maisie 
Lennox. 

But  I  have  now  to  tell  what  befel  at  the  Duchrae  one 
Sabbath  evening,  when  the  pursuit  had  waxed  dull  after 
Bothwell,  and  before  the  Sanquhar  affair  had  kindled  a  new 
flame. 

At  that  time  in  Galloway,  all  the  tailors,  shoemakers,  and 
artificers,  did  their  work  by  going  from  house  to  house 
according  as  the  several  families  had  need  of  them.  Now 
there  was  one  man,  who  sat  near  us  at  the  conventicle,  whose 
actions  that  day  it  was  impossible  to  mistake.  When  the 
troopers  were  jingling  past  beneath  us,  he  flung  himself  on 
the  ground,  and  thrust  his  plaid  into  his  mouth,  to  prevent 


BIRSAY  THE  COBBLER.  145 

his  crying  out  for  fear.  So  pitiful  did  he  look  that,  when  all 
was  past,  my  cousin  Wat  went  over  and  asked  of  him  : 

"What  craven  manner  of  hill-man  art  thou?" 

For  indeed  the  men  of  the  broad  bonnet  were  neither 
cowards  nor  nidderlings.  But  this  fellow  was  shaking  with 
fear  like  the  aspen  in  an  unequal  wind. 

"  I  am  but  poor  Birsay  the  cobbler,"  the  man  answered, 
"  an  it  please  your  honour,  I  like  not  to  come  so  near  thae  ill 
loons  of  soldiers." 

"  What  sent  you  to  the  conventicle,  then,  when  you  fear  the 
red-coats  so  greatly?  "  asked  my  cousin. 

The  little  man  glanced  up  at  my  cousin  with  a  humour- 
some  gleam  in  his  eyes.  He  was  all  bent  together  with 
crouching  over  his  lap-stone,  and  as  he  walked  he  threw 
himself  into  all  kinds  of  ridiculous  postures. 

"Weel,"  he  said,  "ye  see  it's  no  easy  kennin'  what  may 
happen.  I  hae  seen  a  conventicle  scale  in  a  hurry,  and 
leave  as  mony  as  ten  guid  plaids  on  the  grund — forbye  Bibles 
and  neckerchiefs." 

"  But  surely,"  I  said  to  the  cobbler,  "  you  would  not  steal 
what  the  poor  honest  folk  leave  behind  them  in  their  haste?  " 

The  word  seemed  to  startle  him  greatly. 

"  Na,  na ;  Birsay  steals  nane,  stealin's  no  canny  ! "  he 
cried.  "  Them  that  steals  hings  in  a  tow  —  an'  forbye,  burns 
in  muckle  hell  —  bleezin'  up  in  fuffin  lowes  juist  as  the 
beardie  auld  man  Sandy  Peden  said." 

And  the  cobbler  illustrated  the  nature  of  the  conflagration 
with  his  hand. 

"  Na,  na,"  he  cried,  in  the  strange  yammering  speech  of 
the  creature,  "  there's  nae  stealin'  in  gatherin'  thegether  what 
ither  folks  hae  strawed,  surely.  That's  i'  the  guid  Buik  itseF. 
An'  then  after  the  bizz  is  bye,  and  the  sough  calmed  doon, 
Birsay  can  gang  frae  auld  wife  to  auld  wife,  and  say  to  ilka 
yin,  '  Ye  wadna  loss  ocht  lately,  did  ye,  guid  wife?'  '  Aye,' 

L 


146  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

says  she.  '  I  lost  my  Bible,  my  plaid,  or  my  kercher  at  the 
field  preachin' ! '  '  Ay,  woman,  did  ye  ? '  says  I.  l  They're 
terrible  loons  the  sodgers  for  grippin'  and  haudin'.  Noo  I 
mak'  shoon  for  a  sergeant  that  has  mony  a  dizzen  o'  thae 
things.' 

"  Wi'  that  the  auld  wife  begins  to  cock  her  lugs.  *  Maybes 
he  has  my  Bible  ! '  '  I  wadna  wunner,'  says  I.  '  O  man, 
Birsay,'  she  says,  '  I  hae  aye  been  a  freen'  o'  yours,  ye 
micht  e'en  see  gin  he  has  it,  an'  seek  it  aff  him?  There's 
the  texts  an'  heads  an'  particulars  o'  mony  sermons  o'  guid 
Maister  Welsh  and  precious  Maister  Guthrie  in  the  hinner 
end  o'  the  Buik  ! ' 

"'So,'  says  I,  aff-hand  like,  'supposin'  noo,  just  sup- 
posin'  that  Sergeant  Mulfeather  has  gotten  your  bit  buik, 
an'  that  for  freendship  to  me  he  was  wullin'  to  pairt  wi't, 
what  wad  the  bit  buik  be  worth  to  ye.  Ye  see  it's  treason 
to  hae  sic  a  thing,  and  rank  conspiracy  to  thig  and  barter 
to  get  it  back  —  but  what  wull  freends  no  do  to  obleege  yin 
anither?'" 

"Ay,  man  Birsay,"  I  said,  to  encourage  him,  for  I  saw 
that  the  little  man  loved  to  talk.  "  An'  what  wull  the  auld 
body  do  then?" 

"  Faith,  she'll  gie  me  siller  to  tak'  to  Sergeant  Mulfeather 
and  get  back  her  bit  buikie.  An'  that's  just  what  Birsay 
wull  do  wi'  richt  guid  wull,"  he  concluded  cantily. 

"And  hae  ye  ony  mair  to  tell  me,  Birsay?"  I  asked  him. 
For  his  talk  cheered  the  long  and  doleful  day,  and  as  for 
belief,  there  was  no  reason  why  one  should  believe  more 
than  seemed  good  of  Birsay's  conversation. 

"  Ay,  there's  yan  thing  mair  that  Birsay  has  to  say  to  ye. 
You  an*  that  braw  lad  wi'  the  e'en  like  a  lassie's  are  no  richt 
Whigs,  I'm  jaloosin'.  Ye'll  aiblins  be  o'  the  same  way  o' 
thinkin'  as  mysel'  !  " 

At  this  I  pretended  to  be  much  disconcerted,  and  said : 


BIRSAY  THE  COBBLER.  147 

"  Wheest,  wheest,  Birsay  !  Be  canny  wi'  your  tongue  ! 
Mind  whaur  ye  are.  What  mean  you?" 

"  Trust  Birsay,"  he  returned  cunningly,  cocking  his  frowsy 
head  like  a  year- old  sparrow.  "  Gin  the  King,  honest  man, 
never  comes  to  mair  harm  than  you  an'  me  wusses  him,  he'll 
come  gey  weel  oot  o'  some  o'  the  ploys  that  they  blame  him 
for." 

"  How  kenned  ye,  Birsay,"  I  said,  to  humour  him,  "  that 
we  werna  Whigs  ?  " 

"  O,  I  kenned  brawly  by  the  fashion  o'  your  shoon.  Thae 
shoon  were  never  made  for  Whigs,  but  for  honest  King's 
folk.  Na,  na,  they  dinna  gree  well  wi' .  the  moss-broo  ava 
—  thae  sort  wi'  the  narrow  nebs  and  single  soles.  Only 
decent,  sweering,  regairdless  folk,  that  wuss  the  King  weel, 
tryst  shoon  like  them  !  " 

It  was  clear  that  Birsay  thought  us  as  great  traitors  and 
spies  in  the  camp  as  he  was  himself.  So  he  opened  his 
heart  to  us.  It  was  not  a  flattering  distinction,  but  as  the 
confidence  of  the  little  man  might  be  an  element  in  our  own 
safety  and  that  of  our  friends  on  some  future  occasion,  I  felt 
that  we  would  assuredly  not  undeceive  him. 

But  we  had  to  pay  for  the  distinction,  for  from  that 
moment  he  favoured  us  with  a  prodigious  deal  of  his  con- 
versation, which,  to  tell  the  truth,  savoured  but  seldom  of 
wit  and  often  of  rank  sculduddery. 

Birsay  had  no  sense  of  his  personal  dishonour,  and  would 
tell  the  most  alarming  story  to  his  own  discredit,  without 
wincing  in  the  least.  He  held  it  proof  of  his  superior  cau- 
tion that  he  had  always  managed  to  keep  his  skin  safe,  and 
so  there  was  no  more  to  be  said. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Birsay,  "these  are  no  canny  times  to  be 
amang  the  wild  hill-folk.  Yin  wad  need  to  be  weel  payed 
for  it  a'.  There's  the  twa  black  MacMichaels  —  they  wad 
think  nae  mair  o'  splatterin'  your  harns  again  the  dyke  than 


148  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

o'  killing  a  whutterick.  Deil  a  hair  !  An'  then,  on  the  ither 
hand,  there's  ill-contrived  turncoats  like  Westerha'  that 
wad  aye  be  pluff-pluffin'  poother  and  shot  at  puir  men  as 
if  they  were  muirfowl.  An'  he's  no  parteecler  eneuch  ava 
wha  he  catches,  an'  never  will  listen  to  a  word. 

"  Then,  waur  than  a',  there's  the  awesome  nichts  whan  the 
ghaists  and  warlocks  are  aboot.  I  canna  bide  the  nicht  ava. 
God's  daylicht  is  guid  eneuch  for  Birsay,  an'  as  lang  as  the 
sun  shines,  there's  nae  fear  o'  deil  or  witch-wife  gettin'  haud 
o'  the  puir  cobbler  chiel !  But  when  the  gloamin'  cuddles 
doon  intil  the  lap  o'  the  nicht,  and  the  corp-cannles  lowe  i' 
the  bogs,  an'  ye  hear  the  deils  lauchin'  and  chunnerin'  to 
themselves  in  a'  the  busses  at  the  road-sides,  I  declare  every 
stound  o'  manhood  flees  awa'  clean  oot  o'  Birsay's  heart,  an' 
he  wad  like  to  dee  but  for  thocht  o'  the  After  come.  An' 
deed,  in  the  mirk-eerie  midnicht,  whether  he's  fearder  to 
dee  or  to  leeve,  puir  Birsay  disna  ken  !  " 

"  But,  Birsay,"  I  said,  "  ill-doers  are  aye  ill-dreaders.  Gin 
ye  were  to  drap  a'  this  thievery  an'  clash-carryin'  wark,  ye 
wadna  be  feared  o'  man  or  deil !  " 

"  Weel  do  I  ken,"  Birsay  said,  "  that  siccan  ploys  are  no 
for  the  like  o'  me ;  but  man,  ye  see,  like  ither  folk,  I'm  ter- 
rible fond  o'  the  siller.  An'  there's  nocht  so  comfortin', 
when  a'  thae  things  are  yammerin'  to  get  haud  o'  ye,  as  the 
thocht  that  ye  hae  a  weel-filled  stockin'-fit  whaur  nane  but 
yerseP  can  get  haud  o't !  " 

And  the  creature  writhed  himself  in  glee  and  slapped  his 
thigh. 

"  Yae  stockin'  fu',  man,"  he  said,  "  an'  tied  wi'  a  string, 
an'  the  ither  begun,  an'  as  far  up  as  the  instep.  O  man,  it's 
blythe  to  think  on  ! 

"But  heard  ye  o'  the  whummel  I  gat  aff  this  verra 
Duchrae  kitchen  laft  ?"  said  Birsay.  He  often  came  over  in 
the  gloaming  on  a  news-gathering  expedition.  For  it  was  a 


BIRSAY  THE  COBBLER.  149 

pleasure  to  give  him  news  of  a  kind ;  and  my  cousin,  who 
had  not  a  great  many  occupations  since  Kate  McGhie  had 
gone  back  to  the  great  House  of  Balmaghie,  took  a  special 
delight  in  making  up  stories  of  so  ridiculous  a  nature  that 
Birsay,  retailing  them  at  headquarters,  would  without  doubt 
soon  find  his  credit  gone. 

"The  way  o't  was  this,"  Birsay  continued.  "As  I  telled 
ye,  I  gan  frae  hoose  to  hoose  in  the  exercise  o'  my  trade, 
for  there's  no  sic  a  suitor  i'  the  country-side  as  Birsay,  though 
he  says  it  himseP,  an'  no  siccan  water-ticht  shoon  as  his  ever 
gaed  on  the  fit  o'  man.  Weel,  it  was  ae  nicht  last  winter,  i' 
the  short  days,  Birsay  was  to  begin  wark  at  the  Duchrae  at 
sax  by  the  clock  on  Monday  morn.  An'  whan  it  comes  to 
coontin'  hours  wi'  Auld  Anton  Lennox  o'  the  Duchrae,  ye  maun 
begin  or  the  clock  has  dune  the  strikin'.  Faith  an'  a'  the  Len- 
noxes are  the  same,  they'll  haud  the  nose  o'  ye  to  the  grund- 
stane  —  an'  the  weemen  o'  them  are  every  hair  as  bad  as  the 
men.  There's  auld  Lucky  Lennox  o'  Lennox  Plunton  — 
what  said  ye  ?  —  aweel,  I'll  gang  on  wi'  my  story  gin  ye  like, 
but  what's  a'  the  steer  so  sudden,  the  nicht's  afore  us  ? 

"  As  I  was  sayin',  I  had  to  start  at  Auld  Anton's  on  the 
Monday  mornin',  gey  an'  early.  So  I  thocht  I  wad  do  my 
travellin*  in  time  o'  day,  an'  get  to  the  Duchrae  afore  the 
gloamin'.  An'  in  that  way  I  wad  get  the  better  o'  the  bogles, 
the  deils  o'  the  bogs,  the  black  horse  o'  the  Hollan  Lane,  an' 
a'  sic  uncanny  cattle. 

"  But  I  minded  that  the  auld  tod,  Anton  Lennox,  was  a 
terrible  man  for  examinin'  in  the  Carritches,  an'  aye  speer- 
speerin'  at  ye  what  is  the  Reason  Annexed  to  some  perfectly 
unreasonable  command  —  an*  that  kind  o'  talk  disna  suit 
Birsay  ava.  So  what  did  I  do  but  started  ower  in  the  after- 
noon, an'  gat  there  juist  aboot  the  time  when  the  kye  are 
milkit,  an'  a'  the  folk  eyther  at  the  byre  or  in  the  stable. 

"  So  I  watched  my  chance  frae  the  end  o'  the  hoose,  an' 


150  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

when  no  a  leevin'  soul  was  to  be  seen,  I  slippit  up  the  stairs, 
speelin'  on  the  rungs  o'  the  ladder  wi'  my  stockin'  soles  as 
quiet  as  pussy. 

"  Then  whan  I  got  to  the  middle  o'  the  laft,  whaur  the  big 
hole  o'  the  him  is,  wi'  the  reek  hingin'  thick  afore  it  gangs 
oot  at  the  riggin'  o'  the  hoose,  I  keekit  doon.  An'  there  at 
the  table,  wi'  his  elbows  on  the  wood,  sat  Auld  Anton  takin' 
his  lesson  oot  o'  the  big  Bible  —  like  the  bauld  auld  Whig  that 
he  is,  his  whinger  in  a  leather  tashe  swingin'  ahint  him.  It's 
a  queerie  thing  that  for  a'  sae  often  as  I  hae  telled  the  curate 
aboot  him,  he  has  never  steered  him.  There  maun  be  some- 
thing no  very  thorough  aboot  the  curate,  an'  he  none  so 
great  a  hero  wi'  the  pint  stoup  either,  man  ! 

"  Aweel,  as  the  forenicht  slippit  on,  an'  the  lassies  cam'  in 
frae  the  byre,  an'  the  lads  frae  the  stable,  it  was  just  as  I 
expected.  They  drew  up  their  stools  aboot  the  hearth,  got 
oot  their  Bibles  an'  warmed  their  taes.  Lord  preserve  me, 
to  see  them  sittin'  sae  croose  an'  canty  ower  Effectual  Callin' 
an'  Reason  Annexed,  as  gin  they  had  been  crackin'  an' 
singin'  in  a  change-hoose  !  They're  a  queer  fowk  thae  Whigs. 
It  wad  hae  scunnered  a  soo  !  An'  twa-three  neebours  cam' 
in  by  to  get  the  benefit  o'  the  exerceeses  !  Faith  !  if  Clavers 
had  chanced  to  come  by  the  road,  he  wad  hae  landed  a  right 
bonny  flaucht  o'  them,  for  there  wasna  yin  o'  the  rive  but  had 
grippit  sword  at  either  o'  the  twa  risin's.  For  a'  the  auld 
carles  had  been  at  Pentland  an'  a'  the  young  plants  o'  grace 
had  been  at  Bothwell  —  ay,  an'  Auld  Anton  an'  twa-three  mair 
warriors  had  been  at  them  baith.  An'  gin  there  had  been  a 
third  he  wad  hae  been  there  too,  for  he's  a  grim  auld  carle, 
baith  gash  an'  steeve,  wi'  his  Bible  an'  his  brass-muntit  pistols 
an'  his  Effectual  Callin'  ! 

"  Then  bywhiles,  atween  the  spells  o'  the  questions,  some  o' 
the  young  yins  fell  a-talkin',  for  even  Auld  Anton  canna  haud 
the  tongues  o'  the  young  birkies.  An'  amang  ither  things 


BIRSAY  THE  COBBLER.  151 

what  did  the  loons  do  but  start  to  lay  their  ill-scrapit  tongues 
on  me,  an'  begood  to  misca'  puir  Birsay  for  a'  that  was  ill ! " 

" '  Listeners  hear  nae  guid  o'  themselves/  is  an  auld-farrant 
say,  Birsay,"  I  said. 

"  Aweel,"  the  suitor  went  on,  "  that's  as  may  be.  At  ony 
rate,  it  was  '  Birsay  this  '  an'  f  Birsay  that,'  till  every  porridge- 
fed  speldron  an'  ill-gabbit  mim-moo'ed  hizzie  had  a  lick  at 
puir  Birsay. 

"  But  at  the  lang  an'  last  the  auld  man  catched  them  at  it, 
an'  he  was  juist  the  man  to  let  them  hear  aboot  it  on  the 
deafest  side  o'  their  heids.  He  was  aye  a  don  at  reprovin', 
was  Auld  Anton.  No  mony  o'  the  preachers  could  haud  a 
can'le  to  him  on  the  job. 

"  Is  it  no  a  gey  queer  thing,"  said  Birsay,  breaking  off  his 
story,  "  that  when  we  set  to  an'  curse  a'  an'  sundry,  they  ca' 
it  profane  sweerin',  and  misca'  us  for  awesome  sinners ;  but 
when  they  lay  their  tongues  to  their  enemies  an'  curse  them, 
it's  ca'ed  a  Testimony  an'  printed  in  a  buik?  " 

The  thing  did  indeed  strike  me  as  strange,  but  I  desired 
to  keep  Birsay  to  his  story,  so  I  only  said : 

"  But,  Birsay,  what  did  the  auld  man  say  to  them  when  he 
heard  them  misca'in'  you?" 

"  Oh,  he  e'en  telled  them  that  it  wad  fit  them  better  to 
look  to  their  ain  life  an'  conversation.  An'  that  it  wad  be 
tellin'  them  yae  day,  gin  they  had  made  as  guid  a  job  o'  their 
life  wark  as  Birsay  made  o'  his  bits  o'  shoon  —  a  maist  sensible 
an'  just  observe  !  Faith,  the  auld  tog  is  nane  sae  ill  an  auld 
carle,  though  siccan  a  dour  an'  maisterfu'  Whig.  He  kens 
guid  leather  wark  when  he  sees  it ! 

"  So  when  they  were  a'  sittin'  gey  an'  shame-faced  under 
this  reproof — whang/  Doon  on  the  hearthstane  fell  my 
suitor's  elshin  —  the  cankersome  thing  had  slippit  oot  o'  my 
pooch  an'  drappit  ower  the  edge  o'  the  hole  in  the  laft  aboon 
the  fireplace. 


152  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"'Preserve  us,'  I  thought  to  myseP,  'it's  a'  by  wi'  Birsay 
noo.  They'll  be  up  the  stair  swarmin'  like  a  bee's  byke.' 
But  when  I  keeked  it  ower,  they  were  a'  sittin'  gapin'  at  the 
elshin  that  had  stottit  on  to  the  floor.  An'  what  wi'  me 
steerin'  an'  lookin'  ower  the  edge,  clash  fell  my  braid  knife, 
that  I  cut  the  leather  wi',  oot  o'  my  pooch  ! 

"  It  fell  on  the  clean  stane,  an'  then  lap  to  the  side,  nearly 
on  to  the  knees  o'  a  great  fat  gussie  o'  a  loon  they  ca'  Jock 
Wabster.  An'  Jock  was  in  siccan  a  hurry  to  get  oot  o'  the 
road  o'  the  thing — for  he  thocht  it  wasna  canny  —  that  he 
owerbalanced  himsel',  and,  certes  !  ower  he  gaed  amang  the 
lassies,  stool  an'  a',  wi'  an  awesome  clatter.  An'  a'  the  las- 
sies cried  oot  wi'  fricht  an'  gruppit  the  lad  they  likit  best  — 
for  there's  a  deal  o'  human  nature  even  amang  the  Whigs,  that 
the  Covenants  canna  fettle,  nor  yet  Effectual  Callin'  keep  in 
bounds,  and  nae  doot  there's  Reason  Annexed  for  that  too  ! 

"  My  sang,  but  whan  Auld  Anton  got  him  straucht  on  his 
chair  again,  whatna  tongue-threshin'  did  he  no  gie  the  lassies, 
an'  indeed  a'  the  lave  o'  them.  He  caa'ed  them  for  a'thing 
that  was  bad,  an'  telled  them  what  kin'  o'  black  ill  consciences 
they  bood  hae,  to  be  feared  o'  a  wee  bit  thing  that  was  but 
wood  an'  aim.  But  when  they  showed  him  the  knife  whaur 
it  lay  glintin'  on  the  hearth  (for  nae  man  o'  them  daured  to 
touch  it),  Anton  was  a  wee  bit  staggered  himsel',  an'  said 
it  was  a  sign  sent  to  reprove  them  for  speakin'  aboot  puir 
Birsay  on  a  Sabbath  nicht.  '  It  was  a  deil's  portent,'  he  said, 
'an'  nae  mortal  man  ever  forged  that  steel,  an'  gin  ony- 
body  touched  it  he  wadna  wunner  but  it  wad  burn  him  to 
the  bane,  comin'  direc'  frae  sic  a  place  as  it  had  dootless 
loupit  frae.' 

"  This  tickled  me  so  terribly  that  I  creepit  a  wee  nearer 
to  see  the  auld  tod's  face,  as  he  laid  it  aff  to  them  aboot  the 
deil's  elshin  an'  his  leather  knife  —  that  had  baith  been  bocht 
frae  Rab  Tamson,  the  hardware  man  in  the  Vennel  o'  Dum- 


BIRSAY  THE  COBBLER.  153 

fries,  an'  wasna  payed  for  yet !  When  what  d'ye  think  hap- 
pened? 

"Na,  ye  couldna  guess — weel,  I  creepit  maybe  a  hair 
ower  near  the  edge.  The  auld  rotten  board  gied  way  wi' 
me,  an'  doon  Birsay  fell  amang  the  peats  on  the  hearthstane, 
landin'  on  my  hinderlands  wi'  a  brange  that  nearly  brocht 
the  hoose  doon.  I  gaed  yae  skelloch  as  I  fell,  but,  gracious 
me,"  said  Birsay,  waving  his  hands, "  that  was  as  naething  to  the 
scraich  that  the  fowk  aboot  the  fire  gied.  They  scattered  like 
a  flock  o'  wild  deuks  when  a  chairge  o'  shot  splairges  amang 
them.  They  thocht  the  ill  auld  boy  was  corned  into  the  midst 
o'  them,  an'  wi'  yae  consent  they  made  for  the  door.  Jock 
Wabster  took  the  hill  baa-haain'  like  a  calf  as  he  ran,  and 
even  bauld  Auld  Anton  stood  by  the  door  cheek  wi'  his  sword 
point  atween  him  an'  the  deil  whummelt  on  his  hearthstane  ! 

"  But  I  didna  bide  lang  amang  the  reed  peats,  as  ye  may 
guess.  I  was  scramblin'  oot,  whan  the  auld  man  gruppit  me 
by  the  cuff  o'  the  neck,  an',  maybes  because  he  had  been  a 
kennin'  frichtit  himsel',  he  gied  puir  Birsay  an  awesome  warm 
pair  o'  lugs.  He  near  dang  me  stupit.  Gin  I  had  gane  to 
the  laft  to  escape  Effectual  Callin',  he  didna  scruple  to  gie  me 
Effectual  Daudin',  an'  that  without  ony  speerin'  or  as  muckle's 
a  single  reason  annexed  !  " 

"And  what,"  I  said,  "came  o'  Jock  Wabster?" 

"  'Deed  as  for  Jock,"  said  Birsay,  "  thereupon  he  got  great 
experience  o'  religion  and  gaed  to  join  John  Gib  and  his  com- 
pany on  the  Flowe  o'  the  Deer-Slunk,  where  Maister  Lennox 
vanquished  them.  But  he  didna  catch  Jock,  for  Jock  said 
gin  he  had  beat  the  deil  flat-fit  in  a  race,  he  wasna  feared  for 
any  Lennox  o'  the  squad.  But  Jock  was  aye  ower  great  wi' 
the  weemen  folk,  an'  sae  John  Gib's  notions  just  suited  him." 

Here  Birsay  made  an  end  of  his  story,  for  Anton  Lennox 
himself  came  in,  and  of  him  Birsay  stood  in  great  and 
wholesome  awe. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   SANQUHAR   DECLARATION. 

I  THINK  it  was  during  the -week  I  lay  thus  in  the  barn  at 
the  Duchrae,  often  with  Richard  Cameron  or  his  young 
brother  Michael  at  my  back  in  the  quiet  of  the  corn  mow, 
that  first  I  got  within  me  the  true  spirit  of  the  Covenant. 
Then  it  was  that  I  heard  all  the  troubles  and  the  sins  of 
Scotland  redd*  up  and  made  plain;  for  in  the  night  watches 
Cameron  and  his  brother  had  great  communings  together. 
Richard  was  all  for  being  done  with  the  authority  of  the 
King,  and  making  but  one  cast  for  it.  Michael  thought 
that  the  time  was  not  ripe  nor  the  men  ready. 

Now  these  two  youths  were  they  who  chiefly  set  Scotland 
in  a  lowe  at  this  time,  when  Lauderdale  had  so  nearly  tram- 
pled out  the  red  cinders  of  the  fire  of  Presbytery.  It  was 
strange  to  think,  that  he  who  should  blow  them  again  into 
a  flame  had  once  been  a  Prelatist,  and  that  from  the  wicked 
shire  of  Fife.  When  one  cast  it  up  to  him,  Richard  Cam- 
eron said : 

"Ay,  it  humbles  us  all  to  remember  the  pit  from  which 
we  were  digged !  " 

Then  one  night  in  the  barn  we  gave  in  very  solemnly  our 
adhesions  to  the  disowning  of  Charles  Stuart  and  his  brother 
James  —  all  save  my  cousin  Wat,  who  said : 

"I  canna  bide  to  cast  off  the  blood  of  Bruce.  I  had 
rather  kiss  the  Red  Maiden." 

And  with  that,  early  in  the  morning  he  left  us,  which  was 

*  Cleared  up. 
154 


THE  SANQUHAR  DECLARATION.  155 

a  surprising  grief  to  me,  for  he  and  I  had  been  brothers  in 
peril  during  many  months.  Whither  he  went  I  knew  not 
then,  but  it  shall  be  related  in  its  proper  place  and  all  that 
befel  him  in  his  lonely  wanderings,  after  he  parted  from  me. 

"We  must  not  do  this  thing  lightly  or  gladly,"  said 
Richard  Cameron  to  us  that  abode  with  him  in  the  barn. 
"  We  have  laid  our  accounts  with  the  worst  that  the  Gov- 
ernment may  do  to  us.  We  count  not  our  lives  dear.  We 
see  plainly  that  naught  is  to  be  gained  save  by  defiance, 
any  more.  The  Indulgence  is  but  a  dish  of  sowens  with 
a  muzzle  thereafter,  to  make  us  for  ever  dumb  dogs  that  will 
not  bark.  Who  shall  hinder  or  blame,  if  we  choose  to  lay 
down  our  lives  in  the  high  places  of  the  field,  that  the  old 
faith  be  not  forgotten,  neither  the  old  Covenant  engage- 
ments to  our  Lord  Christ  for  ever  abrogated?" 

Yet  I  think  there  was  not  one  of  us  that  was  not  heart- 
sorry  to  break  with  the  House  of  Stuart.  For  after  all  we 
were  of  Scotland,  and  we  or  our  fathers  had  stood  for  the 
Scots  House  and  the  Scots  King  against  Cromwell  and  the 
supplanters.  At  any  rate,  let  it  not  be  said  of  us  that  we 
did  this  thing  lightly;  but  rather  with  heavy  hearts,  because 
the  King  had  been  so  far  left  to  himself  as  to  forswear  and 
abandon  the  solemn  engagements  which  he  had  undertaken. 

So  it  came  to  pass  in  the  mid  days  of  the  year,  that  one 
afternoon  we  rode  away  through  the  lonely  hills  by  Minny- 
hive,  and  turned  north  up  the  fair  valley  of  the  water  of 
Nith.  Here  and  there  we  gathered  one  to  whom  the  word 
had  been  passed,  finding  them  waiting  for  us  at  some  green 
loaning  foot  or  at  the  mouth  of  some  glen.  Little  we  said 
when  a  friend  joined  us;  for  our  work  was  sad  and  solemn, 
and  to  be  done  once  and  for  all.  We  rode  as  it  were  under 
the  shadow  of  the  scaffold.  Yet  I  think  we  thought  not  so 
much  of  ourselves,  as  of  the  women  folk  that  abode  at  home. 
I  know  that  I  was  wae  for  my  mother,  who  was  now  like  to 


156  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

lose  her  two  sons  as  she  had  aforetime  lost  her  husband, 
and  sometimes  also  I  thought  of  the  lass  Maisie  Lennox, 
and  what  she  would  do  wanting  her  father. 

But  this  I  put  from  me,  for  after  all  Covenanting  was 
man's  business.  And  as  Richard  Cameron  said: 

"They  that  are  trysted  to  the  Bridegroom's  work,  must 
taigle  themselves  with  no  other  marriage  engagements !  " 

At  the  Menick  foot,  where  that  long  stey  pass  begins, 
there  met  us  ten  men  of  the  Upper  Ward,  all  douce  and 
stalwart  men,  armed  and  horsed  as  well  as  any  of  our  men 
out  of  Galloway.  I  was  the  youngest  of  them  all  there, 
and  indeed  the  only  one  that  was  not  a  mighty  man  of  his 
arms.  There  had  been  indeed  some  talk  of  leaving  me  at 
the  Duchrae  to  keep  the  place  —  which  I  knew  to  be  but 
an  excuse.  But  one  James  Gray  of  Chryston,  a  laird's  son 
and  a  strong  man,  cried  out,  "Let  the  lad  come,  for  his 
brother  Sandy's  sake !  " 

A  saying  which  nettled  me,  and  I  replied  instantly : 

"  Let  any  man  stand  out  against  me  with  the  pistol  and 
small  sword,  and  I  will  show  him  cause  why  I  should  come 
for  mine  own ! " 

At  this  Cameron  rebuked  me : 

"Ah,  William,  I  see  well  that  thou  hast  the  old  Adam  in 
thee  yet.  But  was  there  ever  a  Gordon  that  would  not  go 
ram-stam  at  the  boar,  whatever  his  religion?" 

Then  I,  who  knew  that  I  had  spoken  as  a  carnal  man,  was 
somewhat  shamed.  Yet  was  I  glad  also  that  no  man  took 
my  challenge,  for  indeed  I  had  small  skill  of  the  sword. 
And  with  the  shearing  sword  especially,  my  blows  were  as 
rat-tail  licks  to  the  dead  strikes  of  Richard  Cameron  or 
even  those  of  my  brother  Sandy.  But  nevertheless  only  to 
say  the  thing,  did  me  good  like  medicine. 

So  into  the  town  of  Sanquhar  we  rode  two  and  two,  very 
slow  and  quiet,  for  Cameron  had  forbidden  us  to  ride  with 


THE  SANQUHAR  DECLARATION.  157 

a  tight  rein  and  the  horses  champing,  as  indeed  I  longed 
to  do  for  pride  and  the  lust  of  the  eye,, 

"For  thus,"  said  he,  "  do  the  King's  troopers,  when  they 
enter  a  town,  to  take  the  eyes  of  the  unthinking.  But 
contrariwise,  we  are  come  to  do  a  deed  in  Scotland  that 
shall  not  be  forgotten  while  Nith  water  runs,  and  to  tie  a 
band  which  shall  not  be  broken  through.  We  ourselves 
shall  fall  and  that  speedily  —  that  know  we  well  —  but, 
nevertheless,  that  which  we  do  this  day  shall  one  day  bring 
the  tyrant's  downfall ! " 

And  so  indeed  it  proved  to  be. 

Sanquhar  is  ever  a  still  place,  as  though  there  were  no 
other  day  there  but  the  Sabbath  only.  Also  the  inhabitants 
are  douce  and  grave,  and  so  remain  to  this  day  —  buying 
and  selling,  eating  and  drinking,  as  though  they  were  alone 
on  God's  universe.  But  that  day  as  we  came  riding  up  the 
street,  there  was  a  head  at  every  window  and  I  heard  the 
wives  cry : 

"The  hill-folk  have  risen  and  come  riding  into  San- 
quhar!" 

And  this  pleased  me  in  the  heart,  though  I  know  well  I 
should  have  had  my  mind  set  on  other  matters. 

At  the  cross  we  formed  up,  setting  our  horses  ten  on 
either  side  and  Richard  Cameron  in  the  midst,  he  alone 
dismounted  and  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  cross.  We 
sat  still  and  quiet,  all  being  bareheaded.  For  show  I  had 
plucked  my  brand  out  of  its  scabbard.  But  Cameron 
sternly  bade  me  put  it  back  again,  and  gave  me  his  horse 
to  hold  instead.  Which  thing  grieved  and  shamed  me  at 
the  time  sadly  enough,  though  now  I  am  both  proud  and 
glad  of  it. 

"  The  time  for  drawn  steel  is  yet  to  come,  William.  Be 
sure  that  thou  art  then  as  ready  as  now,"  he  said. 

We  sang  our  psalm  of  Covenant-keeping,  and  the  hills 


158  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

gave  it  back  to  us,  as  though  the  angels  were  echoing  the 
singing  of  it  softly  in  heaven.  After  that,  Cameron  stood 
up  very  straight,  and  on  his  face,  which  was  as  the  face  of  a 
lion,  there  was  a  great  tenderness,  albeit  of  the  sterner  sort. 

The  townsfolk  stood  about,  but  not  too  near,  being  care- 
ful and  cautious  lest  they  should  be  called  in  question  for 
compliance  with  the  deed,  and  the  strange  work  done  by  us 
that  day;  for  the  King's -scoop-net  gathered  wide.  Also 
the  innocent  were  often  called  to  judgment,  especially 
if  they  had  something  to  lose  in  goods  or  gear,  as  was 
the  case  with  many  of  the  well-doing  burghers  of  San- 
quhar. 

"This  day,"  cried  Cameron,  loudly  and  solemnly,  after 
he  had  prayed,  "do  we  come  to  this  town  of  Sanquhar  to 
cast  off  our  allegiance  to  Charles  Stuart  and  his  brother 
James.  Not  hastily,  neither  to  make  ourselves  to  be  spoken 
about,  but  with  solemnity  as  men  that  enter  well-knowing 
into  the  ante-chamber  of  death.  An  we  desired  our  own 
lives,  we  should  receive  Tests  and  Indulgences  thankfully; 
and  go  sit  in  our  kennels,  like  douce  tykes  that  are  ready 
to  run  at  the  platter  and  whistle. 

"  But  for  all  that,  we  are  loyal  men  and  no  rebels,  though 
to-day  we  cast  off  Charles  Stuart  —  ay,  and  will  do  our  best 
to  make  an  end  of  his  rule,  so  that  he  shall  no  more  reign 
over  this  realm.  This  we  shall  do,  not  by  private  assassina- 
tion, which  we  abhor  and  abominate ;  but  by  the  levying  of 
open  war.  We  declare  ourselves  loyal  to  any  covenanted 
king  —  ay,  and  had  Charles  Stuart  kept  his  engagements, 
plighted  and  sworn,  there  is  no  man  here  that  would  not 
right  gladly  have  laid  down  his  life  for  him. 

"All  ye  that  stand  by,  hear  this  word  of  Richard  Cam- 
eron !  There  are  those  behind  me,  who  heard  with  their 
ears  the  oath  that  the  King  sware  at  Perth,  when  before  the 
Solemn  Convocation  he  spake  these  words:  'I  Charles,  King 


THE  SANQUHAR  DECLARATION.  159 

of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  do  assure  and  declare  by  my 
solemn  oath  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  the  Searcher 
of  hearts,  my  allowance  and  approbation  of  the  National 
Covenant  and  of  the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  above 
written,  and  faithfully  oblige  myself  to  prosecute  the  ends 
thereof  in  my  station  and  calling. ' 

"The  King,"  cried  Cameron,  "who  sware  these  oaths  hath 
cast  us  off.  We  have  not  cast  off  the  King !  There  is  one 
waiting  in  the  Low  Countries  whence  I  came,  and  looking 
towards  the  hills  of  Scotland,  to  see  if  there  be  any  faithful. 
Shall  the  fortress  be  utterly  broken  down  with  none  to  build 
her  up  ?  Are  there  no  watchmen  to  tell  the  towers  thereof 
—  none  to  cry  from  rampart  to  rampart,  'What  of  the 
night? '  Ay,  there  be  here  in  Sanquhar  town  this  day  at 
the  least  twenty  men  that  have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal. 
This  day  we  come  to  lay  down  our  lives,  as  happily  as 
children  that  have  spent  their  play-day  in  the  fields,  and 
being  tired,  would  lay  them  down  to  sleep.  But  ere  we  go, 
because  the  time  cannot  be  long,  we  come  to  give  the  ban- 
ner of  the  Lord  once  more  to  the  winds  —  the  banner  of 
that  other  Kingdom  in  Scotland  that  is  Christ's.  Behold !  " 

And  with  that  he  lifted  up  the  banner-staff  which  he  held 
in  his  hand,  and  there  floated  out  upon  the  equal-blowing 
wind  the  blue  banner  of  Christ's  Covenant.  And  as  the 
golden  scroll  of  it  took  the  air,  there  came  that  into  the 
hearts  of  most  of  us,  which  filled  them  to  the  overflow.  The 
tears  ran  down  and  fell  upon  our  horses'  necks.  "FOR 
CHRIST'S  CROWN  AND  COVENANT,"  ran  the  legend.  Then 
we  gathered  ourselves  closer  about  the  battle-flag,  for  which 
we  had  come  out  to  die.  As  one  man  we  drew  our  swords, 
nor  did  Cameron  now  gainsay  us  —  and  lifting  them  high 
up,  till  the  sun  glinted  bonnily  upon  them,  we  sang  our 
solemn  banding  song.  I  never  felt  my  heart  so  high  or 
heaven  so  near,  not  even  at  the  great  field-preaching  by  the 


160  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

water  of  Dee,  when  I  sat  by  the  side  of  Maisie  Lennox. 
Even  thus  we  sang, 

"  God  is  our  refuge  and  our  strength, 

In  straits  a  present  aid  ; 
Therefore,  although  the  earth  remove, 
We  will  not  be  afraid." 

Then  we  rode  out  of  Sanquhar  town,  for  once  gallantly 
enough,  having  solemnly  set  ourselves  to  face  the  King  in 
open  field  —  we  that  were  but  twenty  men  against  three 
kingdoms.  Well  we  knew  that  we  should  be  put  down, 
but  we  knew  also  that  so  long  as  there  were  a  score  of  men 
in  Scotland,  to  do  as  we  had  done  that  day,  the  cause  and 
the  flag  would  never  be  wholly  put  down. 

So  the  douce  burghers  of  Sanquhar  watched  us  ride  away, 
our  swords  gleaming  naked  because  we  had  appealed  to  the 
sword,  and  were  prepared  to  perish  by  the  sword,  as  the 
word  is.  Also  our  blue  banner  of  the  Covenant  waved  bravely 
over  our  heads,  in  token  of  our  dependence  on  Jehovah, 
the  God  of  battles. 

And  as  we  rode  was  it  not  I,  William  Gordon  of  Earls- 
toun,  who  carried  the  banner-staff,  for  Richard  Cameron 
had  given  it  into  my  hands.  So  I  had  not  lived  in  vain, 
and  Sandy  would  never  again  bid  me  sew  bairn-clouts,  and 
bide  at  home  among  the  women.  I  wished  my  father  had 
been  alive  to  see  me. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  LAST  CHARGE   AT  AYRSMOSS. 

THE  morning  of  the  twenty-second  of  July  dawned  sol- 
emnly clear.  It  promised  to  be  a  day  of  slumberous  heat, 
for  the  haze  lay  long  in  the  hollows,  hesitating  to  disap- 
pear, and  there  was  the  brooding  of  thunder  in  the  air. 
We  that  were  of  Cameron's  little  company  found  ourselves 
in  a  wild  place  on  the  moors.  Most  of  our  Galloway  men 
had  betaken  themselves  home,  and  they  that  had  come  out 
of  Lanarkshire  and  Ayr  were  the  greater  part  of  the  scanty 
company.  The  name  of  the  place  where  we  sojourned  was 
Ayrsmoss.  We  had  lain  sleepless  and  anxious  all  night, 
with  watchers  posted  about  among  the  moss-hags.  Richard 
Cameron  spoke  often  to  us,  and  told  us  that  the  matter  had 
at  last  come  to  the  narrow  and  bitter  pass. 

"It  is  the  day  of  the  Lord's  anger,"  he  said,  "and  it  is 
expedient  that  some  men  should  die  for  the  people !  " 

We  told  him  that  we  were  ready,  and  that  from  the  begin- 
ning we  had  counted  on  nothing  else.  But  within  me  I  felt 
desperately  ill-prepared :  yet,  for  the  sake  of  the  banner  I 
carried,  I  tholed  and  said  nothing. 

It  was  about  ten  of  the  day,  and  because  we  heard  not 
from  our  folk  who  had  been  posted  to  give  warning,  we  sent 
out  other  two  to  find  them.  Then  having  taken  a  meal  of 
meat  for  the  better  sustaining  of  our  bodies,  we  lay  down  to 
sleep  for  an  hour  on  a  pleasant  green  place,  which  is  all  sur- 
rounded by  morasses,  for  we  had  gotten  no  rest  the  night 
before. 

M  161 


162  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Now  I  think  we  were  all  fey  at  this  time,  for  we  laid  us 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  moss  in  a  place  that  is  open  to  all. 
And  this  when  we  might  have  withdrawn  ourselves  deep  into 
the  bog,  and  so  darned  ourselves  among  the  "quakking 
quas  "  —  dangerous  and  impassable  flowes,  so  that  no  dra- 
goons in  the  world  could  have  come  at  us.  But  this  we 
did  not,  for  the  word  and .  doom  were  written.  It  was  our 
enemies'  day.  As  Cameron  said  that  morning  as  we  passed 
the  house  of  William  Mitchell  in  Meadowhead,  and  when 
they  brought  him  out  a  basin  and  water  to  wash  his  hands, 
also  .a  towel  wherewith  to  dry  them : 

"  This  is  their  last  washing.  My  head  and  hands  are  now 
cleansed  for  the  offering  1 " 

So  we  laid  us  down  among  a  great  swirling  of  whaups  and 
crying  of  peesweeps.  For  the  season  of  their  nesting  was 
hardly  over,  and  all  the  moorland  was  astir  with  their  plain- 
tive notes. 

After  a  long  time  I  awoke,  dreaming  that  Maisie  Lennox 
stood  by  my  bedside  and  took  my  hand,  saying,  "  The  kye 
are  in  the  corn ! "  I  sat  up,  and,  lo,  there  within  half  a 
mile,  and  beating  the  moor  in  search  of  us,  were  two 
companies  of  dragoons,  of  the  number  of  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty,  as  near  as  at  a  glance  I  could  reckon.  My  heart 
gave  a  stound,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "This  is  surely  thy 
death-day,  William  Gordon ! "  And  the  word  sounded 
strangely  in  my  heart,  for  I  had  begun  to  think  my  life 
worth  living  in  these  latter  days,  and  was  none  so  keen 
upon  the  dying  as  were  some  others  of  our  company. 

But  on  the  instant  I  awakened  Cameron  and  his  brother 
Michael,  and  also  David  Hackstoun  of  Rathillet,  that  was  a 
soldier  most  stern,  but  yet  a  just  man  according  to  his 
lights.  And  they  sat  up  and  saw  the  soldiers  sweeping  the 
moor.  But,  as  I  say,  we  were  all  fey.  For  even  then  it  was 
within  our  power  to  have  escaped  the  violence  of  the  men  of 


THE  LAST  CHARGE   AT  AYRSMOSS.  163 

war.  Very  easily  could  we  have  left  our  horses,  and  betaken 
us  into  the  deepest  parts  of  the  bottomless  shaking  bogs, 
where  no  man  could  have  followed  us.  But  the  thought 
came  not  to  us  at  the  time.  For  God  had  so  ordered  it, 
that  Scotland  was  best  to  be  served  that  day  by  the  death  of 
many  of  His  servants. 

There  were  in  our  company  twenty-three  that  had  horses 
and  forty  that  had  none.  But  we  were  all  armed  in  some 
sort  of  fashion. 

Now,  this  Richard  Cameron  had  in  him  both  the  heart 
of  a  fighter  and  the  fearlessness  of  a  man  assured  of  his 
interest.  He  cried  out  to  inquire  of  us  if  we  were  firmly 
set  in  our  minds  to  fight,  and  with  one  voice  we  answered 
him,  "Ay!"  We  were  of  one  heart  and  one  mind.  Our 
company  and  converse  had  been  sweet  in  the  darkness,  and 
now  we  were  set  to  die  together  in  the  noonday,  gladly  as 
men  that  have  made  them  ready  for  the  entering  in  of  the 
bride-chamber. 

So  in  that  sullen  morning,  with  the  birds  crying  and  the 
mist  drawing  down  into  thunder-clouds,  we  rose  to  make 
our  last  stand.  I  had  given  up  all  thought  of  escape,  and 
was  putting  in  hard  steeks  at  the  praying.  For  the  sins  that 
were  on  my  soul  were  many,  and  I  had  too  recently  taken 
to  that  way  of  thinking  to  have  the  comfort  and  assurance 
of  my  elders. 

Now,  the  soldiers  that  came  against  us  were  the  finest 
companies  of  Airly's  and  Strachan's  dragoons  —  gallant  lads 
all  —  newly  brought  to  that  country-side  and  not  yet  inured 
to  the  cruel  riding  and  shooting,  as  other  companies  were. 
I  have  not  a  word  to  say  against  the  way  they  fought,  though 
as  their  duty  was,  they  came  against  us  with  haste  and  fury. 
Our  quarrel  was  not  with  them,  but  with  their  master. 

They  rode  gallantly  enough  this  way  and  that  through  the 
morasses,  and  came  on  bravely.  Bruce  of  Earlshall  was 


164  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

over  them,  but  John  Crichton  was  their  best  fighter.  A  stark 
and  cruel  man  he  was,  that  would  have  hunted  us  all  down 
if  he  could.  He  fought  that  day  with  his  blade  swinging  all 
the  time,  damning  and  cursing  between  every  blow.  But, 
for  all  that,  he  was  sick  and  sorry  ere  he  left  this  field. 
For  if  ever  man  did,  he  met  his  match  when  he  crossed 
swords  with  the  Lion  of  the  Covenant.  It  was  Rathillet 
who  chose  the  place  of  strength  for  us  to  make  our  stand, 
and  as  it  seemed  and  mostly  proved,  to  take  our  deaths 
upon.  There  was  little  time  for  the  Word  and  the  Prayer. 
But,  as  was  our  custom,  we  sang  a  cheerful  psalm,  and 
lifted  up  our  bonnets  while  Cameron  prayed : 

"  Lord,  spare  the  green,  and  take  the  ripe ! "  That  was 
the  whole  matter  of  his  supplication.  "  We  may  never  be 
in  better  case  to  die.  I  see  the  gates  of  heaven  cast  wide 
open  to  receive  us." 

And  I  noted  that  all  the  time  of  our  singing,  David 
Hackstoun  of  Rathillet  was  looking  to  the  priming  of  his 
pistols,  and  drawing  the  edge  of  his  sword-blade  along  the 
back  of  his  hand,  as  one  that  tries  a  razor  ere  he  sets  it  to 
his  chin.  Then  the  companies  of  the  enemy  halted  on  the 
edge  of  the  moss  where  the  ground  was  yet  firm.  They 
seemed  not  disinclined  for  a  parley. 

"Do  you  own  the  King's  authority?"  cried  one  among 
them.  It  was  Bruce  of  Earlshall,  a  buirdly*  chiel  and  one 
not  greatly  cruel;  but  rather  like  Monmouth,  anxious  to  let 
the  poor  remnant  have  its  due. 

"Ay!"  cried  Cameron,  "we  own  the  King's  authority." 

"Wherefore,  then,  stand  ye  there  in  arms  against  his 
forces?  "  came  the  answer  back.  "Yield,  and  ye  shall  have 
quarter  and  fair  conduct  to  Edinburgh ! " 

The  man  spake  none  so  evilly  for  a  persecutor,  and  in 
my  heart  I  liked  him. 

*  Sturdy. 


THE  LAST  CHARGE  AT  AYRSMOSS.  165 

"I  thank  you,  Captain  Bruce,  for  your  fair  speech,"  said 
Cameron,  "but  I  wot  well  you  mean  fair  passage  to  the 
Grassmarket.  The  King  we  own  is  not  King  Charles  Stuart, 
and  it  liketh  us  to  go  to  our  King's  court  through  the  crash 
of  battle,  rather  than  through  the  hank  of  the  hangman's 
twine." 

" This  preacher  is  no  man  of  straw  —  fight  he  will,"  I 
heard  them  say  one  to  the  other,  for  they  were  near  to  us, 
even  at  the  foot  of  the  opposite  knoll. 

Then  our  horsemen,  of  whom  I  was  one,  closed  in  order 
without  further  word,  and  our  foot  drew  out  over  the  moss 
in  readiness  to  fire.  David  Hackstoun  was  with  us  on 
the  left,  and  Captain  Fowler  on  the  right.  But  Richard 
Cameron  was  always  a  little  ahead  of  us  all,  with  his 
brother  Michael  with  him  on  one  side,  and  I,  riding  my 
Galloway  nag,  close  upon  his  right  flank  —  which  was  an 
honourable  post  for  one  so  young  as  I,  and  served  withal  to 
keep  my  spirits  up. 

Just  before  he  gave  the  word  to  charge,  he  cried  out  to 
us,  pointing  to  the  enemy  with  his  sword : 

"Yonder  is  the  way  to  the  good  soldier's  crown! " 

The  day  had  been  clouding  over,  the  heat  growing  almost 
intolerable.  It  was  now  about  two  in  the  afternoon.  It  was 
easy  to  see,  had  we  had  the  eyes  to  observe  it,  that  a 
thunderstorm  was  brewing,  and  even  as  Richard  Cameron 
stretched  out  his  sword  over  his  horse's  head,  and  cried  on 
to  us  to  charge  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  the  first  levin-bolt 
shot  down,  glittering  into  the  moor  like  a  forked  silver 
arrow.  And  over  our  head  the  whole  firmament  raired  and 
crashed. 

"The  Captain  of  our  Salvation  calls  for  us!"  cried 
Cameron.  "  Who  follows  after,  when  the  Son  of  God  rides 
forth  to  war !  " 

So  with  that  we  lowered  our  sword-points  and  drave  at 


166  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

them.  I  think  I  must  have  ridden  with  my  eyes  shut,  down 
that  little  green  knowe  with  the  short  grass  underfoot.  I 
know  that,  even  as  we  rode,  the  thunder  began  to  roar  about 
us,  girding  us  in  a  continuous  ring  of  lightning-flashes. 

Yet,  at  the  time,  I  seemed  to  ride  through  a  world  of 
empty  silence,  even  when  I  struck  the  red  broil  of  battle. 
I  could  see  Cameron  crying  out  and  waving  his  sword  before 
us  as  our  horses  gathered  way,  but  I  remember  no  more  till 
the  shock  came  and  we  found  ourselves  threshing  headlong 
among  them.  I  fired  my  pistols  right  and  left,  and  set  them 
in  my  belt  again,  though  the  habit  was  to  throw  them  away. 
I  had  my  sword  dangling  by  a  lingel  or  tag  at  my  right  wrist, 
for  I  had  learned  from  Wat  Gordon  how  to  fight  it  upon 
horseback  when  it  came  to  the  charge.  The  first  man  that 
I  came  against  was  a  great  dragoon  on  a  grey  horse.  He 
shouted  an  oath  of  contempt,  seeing  me  so  slender  and 
puny.  Yet,  for  all  his  bulk,  I  had  him  on  the  wrong  side, 
so  that  he  could  not  use  his  sword-arm  with  advantage. 
And  as  I  passed  on  my  stout  little  nag,  I  got  my  sword  well 
home  under  his  armpit  and  tumbled  him  off  into  the  mire. 

The  stoutness  of  our  charge  took  the  enemy  entirely  by 
surprise.  Indeed,  afterwards  they  gave  us  all  the  testimony 
of  being  brave,  resolute  men;  and,  like  soldiers  and  gentle- 
men as  they  were,  they  used  them  that  were  taken  very 
civilly.  I  could  see  Cameron  before  me  smiting  and  slay- 
ing, slaying  and  smiting,  rising  in  his  stirrup  at  every  blow 
and  calling  on  his  men.  It  was  a  wild,  fierce  time,  all  too 
short  —  a  happy  turmoil  of  blows  wherein  I  drank  for  the 
first  time  the  heady  delight  of  battle.  All  over  the  wild 
moss  of  Ayr  that  great  day  the  swords  flickered  like 
lightning-flashes,  and  the  lightnings  darted  like  sword- 
blades.  Oh,  how  many  quiet  times  would  I  not  give  for 
such  another  glorious  wager  of  battle ! 

Overhead  all  the  universe  roared  as  we  fought,  and  I  had 


THE  LAST  CHARGE  AT  AYRSMOSS.  167 

no  thought  save  of  the  need  to  keep  my  point  up  —  thrust- 
ing, parrying,  and  striking  as  God  gave  me  ability. 

Right  in  the  midst  of  the  press  there  came  two  at  me 
from  opposite  sides;  and  I  saw  very  well  that,  if  I  got  no 
help,  there  was  no  more  of  life  for  me.  "Richard!"  I 
cried,  and  the  shout  must  have  gone  to  our  leader's  ear, 
though  I  myself  could  not  hear  it,  so  great  was  the  clangour 
and  the  din. 

Cameron  had  been  smiting  with  the  strength  of  ten  im- 
mediately on  my  front.  In  a  moment  more  he  cleared  his 
point,  pierced  his  man,  and  turned.  The  man  on  my  left 
swerved  his  horse  out  of  his  way,  for  Cameron  came  with  a 
surge.  But  the  other,  whom  I  took  to  be  Crichton,  met  him 
fair,  blade  to  blade.  The  first  clash  of  the  swords  was 
mighty.  These  two  lowering  black  men  met  and  knew 
each  other,  soon  as  they  looked  one  another  in  the  eyes. 

But  I  could  see  that  Cameron  was  ever  the  stronger  and 
swifter,  though  Crichton  had  somewhat  the  more  skill. 
Crichton  tried  to  pass  him  a  little,  that  he  might  get  arm- 
play  for  his  famous  back-strokes,  wherewith  he  was  renowned 
to  have  cut  off  a  man's  head  at  a  blow;  but  Cameron  meas- 
ured his  guard  and  the  blow  whistled  harmless  past  his  ear. 
Then  came  the  return.  The  preacher's  sword  streaked  it 
out  straight  and  level,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  to  stand 
full  mid-blade  in  the  dragoon's  side. 

The  next  moment  we  too  found  ourselves  outside  their  first 
line.  We  had  broken  our  way  through,  and  the  enemy  were 
in  confusion  behind  us.  I  saw  many  single  combats  going 
forward,  and  in  especial  a  most  noble  fight  between  David 
Hackstoun  of  Rathillet  and  one  of  his  own  acquaintances, 
by  name  David  Ramsay,  a  gentleman  of  his  country.  As 
they  fought  I  could  hear  Hackstoun,  whom  nothing  could 
daunt  or  disturb,  asking  Ramsay  all  the  news  of  the  country- 
side, and  how  such  a  one  did,  what  wife  had  gotten  another 


168  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

child  and  whether  it  were  a  lad  or  a  lass.  Which  is  a  thing 
I  should  never  have  believed  if  any  man  had  told  me.  And 
when  I  set  it  down  here  I  expect  not  to  be  believed  of  any, 
save  by  those  who  have  been  in  the  thick  of  a  civil  war 
themselves.  But  all  that  knew  David  Hackstoun  of  Rathillet 
will  believe  that  this  thing  is  true  of  him. 

So  he  fought,  clashing  swords  and  talking  at  his  ease, 
without  change  of  countenance,  till  he  was  stricken  down 
with  three  coming  on  him  at  once  from  behind. 

Then,  seeing  our  horsemen  scattered,  Cameron  cried 
them  to  him,  and  we  galloped  towards  their  second  line  that 
came  riding  unbroken  towards  us.  Now  it  was  our  misfort- 
une that  the  dragoons  were  stark  fellows  and  had  seen  ser- 
vice, so  that  they  gave  not  back  as  others  might  have  done, 
seeing  us  come  on  so  determinedly.  Rather  they  reserved 
their  powder  till  we  were  almost  at  the  sword' s  length.  Then 
they  fired,  and  I  saw  our  men  falling  over  in  twos  and  threes. 
But  Richard  Cameron  still  rode  steadily  with  Michael  and 
myself  behind  him.  His  horse  had  once  been  white,  but 
now  was  mostly  dripping  red  —  a  fearsome  sight  to  see.  I 
heard  afterwards  from  old  soldiers  that  had  been  in  the 
fights  of  the  ancient  days,  that  no  such  terrifying  figure  had 
they  ever  seen  in  the  wars,  since  Noll  led  on  the  Ironsides 
at  Marston  Moor. 

But  Cameron's  case  was  far  more  desperate  than  had  ever 
been  that  of  Oliver. 

"Smite!  Smite!"  he  cried,  "The  sword  of  the  Lord 
and  of  Gideon ! " 

Over  all  the  field  there  was  only  the  whinnying  of  swords 
as  they  whistled  through  the  air,  and  at  the  edges  of  the  fray 
the  dropping  rattle  of  the  musketry.  As  we  touched  their 
second  line  we  seemed  to  ride  in  upon  a  breast-high  wave  of 
flame,  which  might  have  been  EarlshalPs  flashing  muskets  or 
God's  own  level  lightnings.  I  rode  as  best  I  could  behind 


THE  LAST  CHARGE  AT  AYRSMOSS.  169 

Cameron,  striking  when  I  had  opportunity  and  warding  as  I 
had  need.  But,  though  I  was  here  in  the  forefront  of  the 
battle,  I  was  in  the  safest  place.  For  Richard  Cameron 
ploughed  a  lane  through  their  company,  sending  them  to 
right  and  left  before  him  as  the  foam  is  ploughed  by  a 
swift  vessel. 

But  our  desperate  riders  were  now  wearing  few.  I  looked 
behind  us,  and  only  two  seemed  to  be  in  the  saddle  —  James 
Gray  of  Chryston  and  Michael  Cameron,  who  had  both 
promised  to  ding  the  stoor  that  day  out  of  his  Majesty's 
red-clouts.  I  could  see  Chryston  striking,  and  grunting 
as  he  struck,  exactly  like  a  man  hagging  hard  wood  with  a 
blunt  axe. 

So  I  found  myself  out  at  the  side  of  the  fight.  But,  just 
when  I  thought  myself  clear,  there  came  a  blow  on  my  steel 
cap  that  nearly  dang  me  out  of  the  saddle,  and  I  drew  out 
further  again.  Cameron  also  had  won  clear;  but,  seeing 
his  brother  Michael  hard  beset,  he  turned  rein  and  drave  in 
among  the  smother  again,  raging  like  the  lion  he  was.  How 
his  horse  kept  his  feet  on  the  moss  I  know  not,  for  Cameron 
seemed  constantly  to  be  standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  leaning 
forward  to  give  his  blade  more  play.  So  he  rode  into  the 
midst  of  them,  till  he  was  brought  to  a  stand  in  what  seemed 
a  ring  of  foes.  Even  there  I  could  see  his  arm  rise  and  fall, 
as  steadily  as  a  man  that  flails  corn  in  a  barn.  And  wher- 
ever he  struck  was  a  gap,  for  there  a  man  went  down.  But 
more  and  more  of  them  gathered  about,  threshing  at  him 
with  their  swords,  some  on  horse  and  some  on  foot,  like  boys 
killing  wasps  at  the  taking  of  a  byke. 

Then  when  Richard  Cameron  saw  that  he  could  do  no 
more,  and  that  all  the  men  were  down  that  had  followed 
him,  his  brother  Michael  also  dying  at  his  feet,  he  swept  his 
sword  every  way  about  him  to  clear  a  space  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  swung  the  brand  over  his  head  high  in  the  air, 


170  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

casting  it  from  him  into  the  sky,  till  it  seemed  to  enter 
into  the  dark  cloud  where  the  thunder  brooded  and  the 
smoke  of  powder  hung. 

"God  of  battles,  receive  my  sinful  soul!  "  he  cried. 

And  with  that  he  joined  his  hands  like  a  man  that  dives 
for  swimming;  and,  unwounded,  unhurt,  yet  fighting  to  the 
last,  Richard  Cameron  sprang  upon  a  hundred  sword-points. 
Thus  died  the  bravest  man  in  broad  Scotland,  whom  men 
called,  and  called  well,  the  Lion  of  the  Covenant. 

And,  even  as  he  passed,  the  heavens  opened,  and  the 
whole  firmament  seemed  but  one  lightning-flash,  so  that 
all  stood  aghast  at  the  marvellous  brightness.  Which 
occasioned  the  saying  that  God  sent  a  chariot  of  fire  with 
horses  of  whiteness  to  bring  home  to  Him  the  soul  of  Rich- 
ard Cameron.  Whereof  some  men  bear  testimony  that 
they  saw;  but  indeed  I  saw  nothing  but  a  wondrous  light- 
ning-flash over  the  whole  heaven.  Then,  a  moment  after, 
the  thunder  crashed  like  the  breaking  up  of  the  world,  and 
there  was  an  end. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

HIDING  WITH   THE   HEATHER-CAT. 

As  for  me,  when  I  had  seen  this,  thinking  it  to  be 
enough,  I  put  spurs  to  my  little  Galloway,  and  we  were 
soon  at  speed  over  the  moss-hags.  My  beast  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  moss  running,  for  it  had  not  carried  me  so 
often  over  the  moor  to  Lochinvar  for  nothing.  I  heard 
tempestuous  crying,  as  of  men  that  pursued,  and,  strangely 
and  suddenly,  behind  me  the  roar  of  battle  sank  into  silence. 
Once  I  glanced  back  and  saw  many  footmen  running  and 
horsemen  rising  and  falling  in  their  saddles.  But,  all  being 
lost,  I  left  the  field  of  Ayrsmoss  behind  me  as  fast  as  I 
might,  and  set  my  horse's  head  over  the  roughest  and 
boggiest  country,  keeping  toward  Dalmellington,  for  the 
wilderness  was  now  to  be  my  home.  For  the  time  I  had 
had  enough  of  rebellion  under  arms.  I  was  not  unfaithful 
to  the  cause,  nor  did  I  regret  what  I  had  done.  But  I 
judged  that,  for  some  time  to  come,  it  were  better  for  me 
not  to  see  company,  for  I  had  no  pleasure  in  it. 

Now,  in  further  telling  my  tale  I  must  put  together  all  the 
incidents  of  my  fleeing  to  the  heather  —  for  that  being  a 
thing  at  the  time  very  frequently  resorted  to,  it  became  at 
last  a  word  in  Scotland  that  "  to  take  to  the  heather  was  to 
be  in  the  way  of  getting  grace." 

Now,  when  I  sped  away  to  the  south-east  from  Ayrsmoss, 
the  folk  I  loved  were  all  killed,  and  I  had  no  hope  or  hold 
of  any  present  resistance  to  the  King.  But  my  Galloway 
sheltie,  being  nimble  on  its  feet,  took  me  bravely  over  the 

171 


172  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

moss-hags,  carrying  me  lightly  and  willingly  as  if  I  had 
been  hare-coursing  on  the  green  holms  of  the  Ken. 

As  I  fled  I  kept  glancing  behind  me  and  seeing  the 
soldiers  in  red  clothes  and  flashing  arms  still  pursuing 
after.  I  saw  also  our  foot  (that  had  stood  off  when  we 
charged,  and  only  fired  as  they  saw  need)  scattering  through 
the  moss,  and  the  enemy  riding  about  the  borders  wherever 
their  horses  could  go,  firing  at  them.  Yet  I  think  that  not 
many  of  them  were  hurt  in  the  pursuit,  for  the  moss  at  that 
place  was  very  boss,  and  full  of  bottomless  bogs,  like  that 
from  which  Patrick  Laing  drew  the  redoubtable  persecutor 
Captain  Crichton.  This  incident,  indeed,  bred  in  the 
breasts  of  the  dragoons  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  soft  bog- 
gish  places,  which  made  greatly  in  many  instances  for  the 
preservation  of  the  wanderers,  and  in  especial  favoured  me 
in  my  present  enterprise. 

In  a  little  after,  two  of  the  four  dragoons  that  followed 
me,  seeing  another  man  running  like  to  burst  through  the 
moss,  turned  aside  and  spurred  their  horses  after  him, 
leaving  but  two  to  follow  me. 

Yet  after  this  I  was  harder  put  to  it  than  ever,  for  the 
sun  was  exceedingly  hot  above  and  the  moss  as  difficult 
beneath.  But  I  kept  to  it,  thinking  that,  after  all,  by  com- 
parison I  was  in  none  such  an  evil  case.  For,  though  my 
head  ached  with  the  steel  cap  upon  it  and  my  horse  sweated, 
yet  it  must  have  been  much  more  doleful  for  the  heavy 
beasts  and  completely  accoutred  dragoons  toiling  in  the 
rear.  So  over  the  broken  places  of  the  moor  I  went  faster 
than  they,  though  on  the  level  turf  they  would  doubtless 
soon  have  ridden  me  down.  But  then,  after  all,  they  were 
but  riding  to  kill  one  Whig  the  more,  while  I  to  save  my 
neck  —  which  made  a  mighty  difference  in  the  earnestness 
of  our  intents  on  that  day  of  swithering  heat. 

Many  a  time  it  came  to  me  to  cast  myself  from  my  beast 


HIDING  WITH  THE  HEATHER-CAT.  173 

and  run  to  the  side,  trusting  to  find  a  moss-hag  where  I 
might  lie  hidden  up  to  my  neck  among  the  water  with  my 
head  among  the  rushes.  I  saw  many  good  and  safe  places 
indeed,  but  I  remembered  that  my  sheltie  would  be  an  ad- 
vertisement to  the  pursuers,  so  I  held  on  my  way.  Besides, 
Donald  had  been  a  good  friend  to  me,  and  was  the  only 
one  of  our  company  that  had  ever  been  on  the  bonny  holms 
of  Earlstoun.  So  that  I  was  kindly  affectioned  to  the 
beast,  and  kept  him  to  his  work  though  the  country  was 
very  moorish  and  the  sun  hot  on  my  head. 

Once  I  was  very  nearly  taken.  For  as  I  went,  not  know- 
ing the  way,  I  came  to  a  morass  where  in  the  midst  there 
was  a  secure  place,  as  it  seemed  to  me.  I  put  Donald  at 
it,  and  when  I  reached  the  knoll  —  lo,  it  was  only  some 
nine  or  ten  yards  square  —  the  bottomless  swelter  of  shaking 
bogs  girding  it  in  on  the  further  side.  Donald  went  to 
the  girth  at  the  first  stride  on  the  other  side,  so  that  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  dismount  and  pull  him  out. 

Then  up  came  the  dragoons,  riding  heavily  and  cursing 
the  sun  and  me.  They  rode  round  skirting  the  moss;  for, 
seeing  the  evil  case  I  was  in,  they  dared  not  come  nearer 
for  fear  of  the  same  or  worse.  They  kept,  therefore,  wide 
about  me,  crying,  "  Come  out,  dog,  and  be  shot ! " 

Which,  being  but  poor  encouragement,  I  was  in  no  wise 
eager  to  obey  their  summons. 

But  by  holding  on  to  the  heather  of  the  moss  —  by  the 
kind  providence  of  God,  it  was  very  long  and  tough  —  I 
managed  to  get  Donald  out  of  his  peril.  He  was  a  bid- 
dable enough  beast,  and,  being  a  little  deaf,  he  knew  not 
fear.  For  reesting  and  terror  among  horses  are  mostly  but 
over-sharpness  in  hearing,  and  an  imagination  that  they 
were  better  without.  But  Donald  had  no  good  hearing  and 
no  bad  forebodings.  So  when  I  pulled  him  among  the  long 
heather,  and  put  his  head  down,  he  lay  like  a  scent-dog, 


174  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

cowered  along  by  the  side  of  the  moss-hags.  Then  the 
pair  by  the  edge  of  the  morass  began  to  shoot  at  me,  for 
the  distance  was  within  reach  of  a  pistol-ball.  The  first 
bullet  that  came  clipped  so  close  to  my  left  ear  that  it  took 
away  a  lock  of  my  hair,  which,  contrary  to  my  custom,  had 
now  grown  longish. 

All  this  time  they  ceased  not  for  a  moment  to  cry,  "  Come 
out,  dog,  and  be  shot!"  They  were  ill-mannered  ram- 
paging lowns  with  little  sense,  and  I  desired  no  comings 
and  goings  with  them.  So  in  no  long  time  I  tired  of  this, 
and  also  of  lying  still  to  be  shot  at.  I  bethought  me  that  I 
might  show  them  a  better  of  it,  and  afford  some  sport.  So 
very  carefully  I  charged  both  my  pistols,  and  the  next  time 
they  came  near,  riding  the  bog-edge  to  fire  at  me,  I  took 
careful  aim  and  shot  at  the  first  of  them.  The  ball  went 
through  the  calf  of  his  leg,  which  caused  him  to  light  off 
the  far-side  of  his  horse  with  a  great  roar. 

"You  have  killed  me,"  he  cried  over  to  me  complain- 
ingly,  as  if  he  had  been  a  good  friend  come  to  pay  me  a 
visit,  to  whom  I  had  done  a  treachery.  Then  he  cursed 
me  very  resentfully,  because  forsooth  (as  he  said)  he  was 
about  to  be  made  a  sergeant  in  the  company,  and,  what 
with  lying  up  with  his  wounded  leg,  some  other  (whom  he 
mentioned)  would  get  the  post  by  favour  of  the  captain. 

"  See  what  you  have  done ! "  said  he,  holding  up  his 
leg. 

But  I  took  aim  with  the  other  pistol  and  sent  a  ball  sing- 
ing over  his  head,  very  close. 

"Trip  it,  my  bonny  lad,"  I  cried,  "or  there  will  be  a  hole 
of  the  same  size  in  your  thick  head  —  which  will  be  as  good 
as  a  cornet's  commission  to  you  in  the  place  to  which  it 
will  send  you !  " 

Then  I  charged  my  pistols  again  and  ordered  them  away. 
The  trooper's  companion  made  bold  to  leave  his  horse  and 


HIDING  WITH  THE  HEATHER-CAT.  175 

come  towards  me  crawling  upon  the  moss.  But  I  turned 
my  pistols  so  straightly  upon  him,  that  he  was  convinced 
that  I  must  be  a  marksman  by  trade  and  so  desisted  from 
the  attempt. 

All  this  made  me  proud  past  reasoning,  and  I  mounted 
in  their  sight,  and  made  a  work  of  fastening  my  accoutre- 
ments and  tightening  Donald's  girths. 

"  So  good-day  to  you !  "  I  cried  to  them,  "  and  give  my 
compliments  to  your  captain  and  tell  him  from  me  that  he 
hath  a  couple  of  varlets  in  his  company  very  careful  of 
their  skins  in  this  world  —  which  is,  maybe,  as  well  — 
seeing  that  in  the  next  they  are  secure  of  getting  them 
well  paid." 

Now  this  was  but  the  word  of  a  silly  boy,  and  I  was  sorry 
for  taunting  the  men  before  ever  I  rode  away.  But  I  set  it 
down  as  it  happened,  that  all  may  come  in  its  due  place, 
nothing  in  this  history  being  either  altered  or  extenuated. 

So  all  that  night  I  fled  and  the  next  day  also,  till  I  came 
into  my  own  country  of  the  Glenkens,  where  near  to  Cars- 
phairn  I  left  Donald  with  a  decent  man  that  would  keep 
him  safe  for  my  mother's  sake.  For  the  little  beast  was 
tired  and  done,  having  come  so  far  and  been  ridden  so 
hard.  Yet  when  I  left  him  out  in  the  grass-park,  there  was 
not  so  much  as  the  mark  of  a  spur  upon  him,  so  willingly 
had  he  come  over  all  the  leagues  of  heather-lands. 

While  life  lasts  shall  I  not  forget  Donald. 

My  father  used  often  to  tell  us  what  Maxwell  of  Monreith 
said  when  he  lit  off  his  grey  horse  at  the  stable-door  and 
turned  him  out  after  riding  him  home  from  Rullion  Green : 
"Thou  hast  done  thy  day's  work,  Pentland.  There  is  a 
park  for  thee  to  fill  thy  belly  in  for  the  rest  of  thy  days. 
No  leg  shall  ever  cross  thy  back  again ! " 

So  when  I  came  to  my  own  in  the  better  days,  I  made 
it  my  care  that  Donald  was  not  forgotten;  and  all  his  labour 


176  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

in  the  future,  till  death  laid  him  low,  was  no  more  than  a 
gentle  exercise  to  keep  him  from  over-eating  himself  on 
the  meadow-lands  of  Afton. 

After  the  great  day  of  dule,  when  Cameron  was  put  down 
at  Ayrsmoss  and  I  escaped  in  the  manner  I  have  told  of,  I 
made  my  way  by  the  little  ferry-port  of  Cree,  which  is  a 
sweet  and  still  little  town,  to  Maryport,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Solway,  and  thence  in  another  ship  for  the  Low 
Countries. 

When  we  came  within  sight  of  the  land  we  found  that  it 
was  dismally  grey,  wearisome  looking,  and  flat.  The  ship- 
men  called  it  the  Hook  of  Holland.  But  this  was  not 
thought  right  for  the  port  of  our  destination,  so  we  put  to 
sea  again,  where  we  were  too  much  tossed  about  for  the 
comfort  of  my  stomach.  Indeed,  every  one  on  board  of 
the  ship  felt  the  inconvenience;  and  two  exceedingly 
pious  women  informed  me  that  it  interfered  with  their  re- 
ligious duties.  It  was  upon  a  Thursday  night,  at  six 
o'clock,  that  we  arrived  at  an  outlandish  place  called,  as  I 
think,  Zurichsee,  where  we  met  with  much  inhumanity  and 
uncourteousness.  Indeed,  unless  a  Scots  merchant,  accus- 
tomed to  adventuring  to  the  Low  Countries,  had  been  of 
our  company,  it  might  have  gone  hardly  with  us,  for  the 
barbarous  folk  had  some  custom  of  ill-treating  strangers 
who  arrive  upon  a  day  of  carnival.  They  entered  our  bark 
and  began  to  ill-treat  us  even  with  blows  and  by  taking  from 
us  what  of  money  we  had.  But  mercifully  they  were  re- 
strained before  I  had  put  my  sword  into  them,  which,  in 
their  own  country  and  engaged  in  ungodliness,  it  had  been 
no  little  folly  to  do. 

Then  also  it  grieved  us  very  sore  that  we  had  five  soldiers 
who  had  come  from  Scotland  with  us  —  the  very  scum  of 
the  land.  They  called  themselves  Captain  Somerville's 
band;  but  if,  indeed,  they  were  any  soldiers  of  his 


HIDING  WITH  THE  HEATHER-CAT.  177 

Majesty's,  then  God  help  their  captain  in  his  command, 
for  such  a  pack  of  unwashed  ruffians  it  never  was  my  hap 
to  see. 

Specially  did  these  men  disquiet  us  upon  the  Sabbath- 
day.  So  dreadful  were  their  oaths  and  curses  that  we 
feared  the  boat  would  sink  because  of  their  iniquities. 
They  carried  themselves  so  exceeding  wickedly  —  but  more, 
as  I  think,  that  we,  who  desired  not  their  company,  might 
take  note  of  them.  For  at  least  three  of  them  were  but 
sullen,  loutish  boys,  yet  the  others  led  them  on,  and  praised 
them  when  they  imitated  their  blasphemies  and  sculduddery. 

At  last  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  came  to 
Rotterdam,  where  we  quartered  with  a  good  merchant,  Mr. 
Donaldson,  and  in  the  morning  we  went  to  a  Mr.  Hay's, 
where  from  that  good  man  (whom  may  God  preserve)  we 
met  with  inexpressible  kindness. 

Thence  we  went  to  Groningen,  where  many  of  the  Cove- 
nant already  were.  To  be  brief  —  that  part  of  my  life  for 
the  present  not  coming  into  the  history  —  I  spent  four 
years  there,  the  most  of  it  with  a  young  man  named  James 
Renwick,  a  good  student,  and  one  very  full  of  great  intents 
which  were  to  make  Scotland  strong  against  the  House  of 
Stuart.  He  came  from  Minnyhive,  a  village  on  the  borders 
of  Galloway  and  Dumfries,  and  was  a  very  decent  lad  — 
though  apt,  before  he  learned  modesty  on  the  moors,  to 
take  too  much  upon  him.  We  were  finally  summoned 
home  by  a  letter  from  the  United  Societies,  for  they  had 
made  me  a  covenanted  member  of  standing  because  of 
Ayrsmoss,  and  the  carrying  of  the  banner  at  Sanquhar. 

While  at  Groningen  I  got  a  great  deal  of  civility  because 
of  Sandy,  my  brother,  whose  name  took  me  everywhere. 
But  I  think  that,  in  time,  I  also  wan  some  love  and  liking 
on  my  own  account.  And  while  I  was  away,  I  got  many 
letters  from  Maisie  Lennox,  chiefly  in  the  name  of  my 

N 


178  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

mother,  who  was  not  good  at  writing;  for  her  father,  though 
a  lord  of  session,  would  not  have  his  daughters  taught 
overly  much,  lest  it  made  them  vain  and  neglectful  of  those 
things  which  are  a  woman's  work,  and  ought  to  be  her 
pleasure  so  long  as  the  world  lasts. 

But  though  I  went  to  the  University,  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  think  that  I  had  any  call  to  the  ministry.  I 
went,  therefore,  for  the  name  of  it,  to  the  study  of  the  law, 
but  read  instead  many  and  divers  books.  For  the  study  of 
the  law  is  in  itself  so  dreary,  that  all  other  literature  is  but 
entertainment  by  comparison.  So  that,  one  book  being 
easy  to  substitute  for  another,  I  got  through  a  vast  deal  of 
excellent  literature  while  I  studied  law  at  the  University  of 
Groningen.  So  did  also,  even  as  I,  all  the  students  of  law 
whom  I  knew  in  Holland  and  elsewhere,  for  that  is  their 
custom. 

But  when  at  last  I  was  called  home,  I  received  a  letter 
from  the  United  Societies,  written  in  their  name,  from  a 
place  called  Panbreck,  where  their  meeting  was  held.  First 
it  told  me  of  the  sadness  that  was  on  Scotland,  for  the  many 
headings,  hangings,  hidings,  chasings,  outcastings,  and 
weary  wanderings.  Then  the  letter  called  me,  as  the  branch 
of  a  worthy  family,  to  come  over  and  take  my  part,  which, 
indeed,  I  was  somewhat  loath  to  do.  But  with  the  letter 
there  came  a  line  from  Maisie  Lennox,  which  said  that  they 
were  in  sore  trouble  at  the  Earlstoun,  sometimes  altogether 
dispossessed,  and  again  for  a  time  permitted  to  abide  in 
safety.  Yet  for  my  mother's  sake  she  asked  me  to  think  of 
returning,  for  she  thought  that  for  me  the  shower  was  surely 
slacked  and  the  on-ding  overpast.  So  I  took  my  way  to  ship- 
board with  some  desire  to  set  my  foot  again  on  the  heather, 
and  see  the  hills  of  Kells  run  blue  against  the  lift  of  heaven, 
from  the  links  of  the  Ken  to  the  headend  of  Carsphairn. 

It  was  the  high  time  of  the  killing  when  I  came  again  to 


HIDING  WITH  THE   HEATHER-CAT.  179 

Scotland,  and  landed  at  Newcastle.  I  made  for  Galloway 
on  foot  by  the  tops  of  the  Cheviots  and  the  Border  hills. 
Nor  did  I  bide  more  than  a  night  anywhere,  and  that  only 
in  herds'  huts.  Till  I  saw,  from  the  moors  above  Lochinkit, 
the  round  top  of  the  Millyea,  which  some  ill-set  people  call 
an  ugly  mountain,  but  which  is  to  me  the  fairest  hill  that 
the  sun  shines  on.  So  at  least  it  appeared,  now  returning 
from  the  Lowlands  of  Holland,  where  one  can  make  the 
highest  hill  with  a  spade  in  an  afternoon.  Ay,  for  I  knew 
that  it  looked  on  Earlstoun,  where  my  mother  was  —  whom 
I  greatly  desired  to  see,  as  was  most  natural. 

Yet  it  was  not  right  that  I  should  recklessly  go  near  Earls- 
toun to  bring  trouble  on  my  mother  without  knowing  how 
the  land  lay.  So  I  came  down  the  west  side  of  the  water 
of  Ken,  by  the  doachs,  or  roaring  linn,  where  the  salmon 
sulk  and  leap.  And  I  looked  at  the  house  from  afar  till  my 
heart  filled,  thinking  that  I  should  never  more  dwell  there, 
nor  look  any  more  from  my  mother's  window  in  the  quiet 
hour  of  even,  when  the  maids  were  out  milking  the  kye. 

Even  as  I  looked  I  could  see  the  glint  of  scarlet  cloth, 
and  the  sun  sparkling  on  shining  arms,  as  the  sentry  paced 
from  the  wall-gate  to  the  corner  of  the  wall  and  back  again. 
Once  I  saw  him  go  within  the  well-house  for  a  drink,  and 
a  great  access  of  desire  took  me  in  my  stomach.  I  re- 
membered the  coolness  that  was  there.  For  the  day  was 
exceedingly  hot,  and  I  weary  and  weak  with  travel. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    WATER   OF    THE    WELL   OF    BETHLEHEM    THAT    IS    BESIDE 
THE   GATE. 

WITH  that  a  kind  of  madness  came  over  me  and  took  pos- 
session of  my  mind  and  body.  I  cannot  account  for  or 
excuse  it,  save  that  the  sun  had  stricken  me  unawares  and 
moidered  my  head. 

I  remember  saying  over  and  over  to  myself  these  words, 
which  I  had  often  heard  my  father  read  as  he  took  the 
Book,  "  O  that  one  would  give  me  to  drink  of  the  water  of 
the  Well  of  Bethlehem  that  is  beside  the  Gate."  So  I  rose 
out  of  the  lair  where  I  was,  took  off  my  shoes  and  stockings, 
and  went  down  to  the  river-side.  Ken  Water  is  very  low  at 
that  season,  and  looking  over  I  could  see  the  fish  lying  in  the 
black  pools  with  their  noses  up  stream,  waiting  for  a  spate 
to  run  into  the  shallows  of  the  burns.  I  declare  that  had 
my  mind  not  been  set  on  the  well-house,  I  should  have 
stripped  there  and  then  for  a  plunge  after  them.  But  in  a 
trice  I  had  crossed  the  river,  wading  to  my  middle  in  the 
clear  warm  pool.  I  think  it  was  surely  the  only  time  that 
man  ever  waded  Ken  to  get  a  drink  of  spring  water. 

When  I  reached  the  farther  side  —  the  nearer  to  my 
mother  —  I  lay  for  a  long  time  on  the  bank  overcome  with 
the  water  and  the  sun.  Now  I  was  plainly  to  be  seen  from 
the  house,  and  had  the  sentinel  so  much  as  looked  my  way, 
I  could  not  have  escaped  his  notice.  But  no  one  came  near 
me  or  stirred  me  in  any  way.  Then  at  last,  after  a  long 
time,  I  roused  myself,  and  betook  me  through  the  thick 

180 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM.  181 

woods  which  lie  on  the  side  towards  the  Clachan  of  St.  John. 
The  wood  here  is  composed  of  great  oaks  —  the  finest,  as  all 
allow,  in  Galloway  —  of  which  that  wherein  my  brother  Sangly 
was  afterwards  often  concealed,  is  but  one.  Underneath  was 
a  thick  growth  of  hazel  and  birch.  The  whole  makes  cover 
of  the  densest,  through  which  no  trooper  could  ride,  and  no 
seeing  eye  pierce. 

So  I  was  here  upon  well-kenned  ground.  Every  tree-stem 
I  knew  by  touch  of  hand,  and  in  my  youth  I  had  creeped 
into  every  hidie  hole  that  would  hold  a  squirrel.  Times 
without  number  had  Sandy  and  I  played  at  hide-and-seek  in 
the  woods.  And  there,  at  the  back  of  one  of  the  great 
trees,  was  where  we  had  fought  because  he  had  called  me 
"  puny  crowl."  Whereat  I  bit  him  in  the  thumb  till  it  bled 
grievously,  to  teach  him  not  to  call  names,  and  also  (more 
generally)  for  the  health  of  his  soul. 

Now  lying  here  in  the  Earlstoun  wood,  all  this  came  back 
to  me,  and  it  seemed  that  Sandy  and  I  were  again  playing 
at  hiding.  Nearly  had  I  cried  out  the  seeking  signal ;  aye, 
and  would  have  done  it,  too,  but  for  the  little  rattle  of  arms 
when  the  sentry  turned  sharp  at  the  corner  of  the  house, 
with  a  click  of  his  heels  and  a  jingle  of  his  spurs.  The 
house  of  Earlstoun  stands  very  near  the  water  edge,  with 
nothing  about  it  save  the  green  hawthorn-studded  croft  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  thick  wood  on  the  other. 

I  lay  a  long  while  watching  the  house  to  see  if  I  could  dis- 
cover any  one  at  the  windows.  But  not  even  a  lounging  sol- 
dier could  I  discern  anywhere,  except  the  single  clinking 
loon  who  kept  the  guard.  Once  Jean  Hamilton,  Sandy's 
wife,  came  to  the  window;  and  once  her  little  daughter, 
Alison,  shook  a  tablecloth  over  the  sash  —  a  sight  which 
cheered  me  greatly,  for  by  it  I  knew  that  there  was  still  folk 
could  eat  a  meal  of  meat  within  the  towers  of  Earlstoun. 

But  more  and  more  the  desire  for  the  sweet  well  water  of 


182  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  gateway  tower,  came  to  me  as  I  lay  parched  with  thirst, 
and  more  than  the  former  yearning  for  home  things.  It 
seemed  that  no  wine  of  sunny  France,  no  golden  juice  of 
Zeres  could  ever  be  one- half  so  sweet  as  the  water  of  that 
Earlstoun  well,  "  that  is  beside  the  Gate." 

Aye,  and  I  declare  I  would  have  grappled  with  the  sentry 
for  it,  save  that  I  had  the  remnants  of  some  sense  left  about  me, 
which  told  me  that  so  I  should  not  only  bring  destruction 
upon  myself,  but  on  others  that  were  even  more  dear  to  me. 

Presently  I  heard  the  voice  of  a  serving  lass  calling  from 
within  the  courtyard,  and  at  the  sound  the  sentry  listened 
and  waited.  He  looked  furtively  this  way  and  that  round 
the  corners.  He  stood  a  moment  in  the  shade  of  the 
archways  and  wiped  his  brow.  Then  he  leaned  his  musket 
against  the  wall  and  went  within.  I  thought  to  myself, 
"  It  is  now  or  never,  for  he  is  gone  to  the  kitchen  for  a 
bite-and-sup,  and  will  be  out  again  in  a  moment,  lest  his 
captain  should  return  and  find  him  gone  from  his  post." 

So  with  that  I  made  a  rush  swiftly  round  the  corner, 
and  entered  the  well-house.  For  a  moment  only,  as  I  ran 
fleet-foot,  was  I  bathed  in  the  hot  sunshine,  then  drenched 
again  in  the  damp,  cool  darkness  of  the  tower.  Within 
there  is  an  iron  handle  and  chain,  which  are  used  to  wrap 
up  the  great  dipper  over  the  windlass.  There  is  also  a 
little  dipper  which  one  may  let  down  by  a  rope,  when 
only  a  drink  or  a  little  household  water  is  needed,  and 
there  is  no  servitor  at  hand  to  turn  the  crank.  This  last  I 
let  down,  and  in  a  moment  after  I  was  draining  icy  nectar 
from  the  cup,  for  which  I  had  risked  so  much.  Yet  all 
I  could  do  when  I  got  it,  was  only  to  sip  a  little,  and  let 
the  rest  run  back  again  into  the  well.  While  like  the 
refrain  of  a  weary  song,  over  and  over  the  words  ran  in 
his  mind,  "  O  that  one  would  give  me  —  of  the  water  of 
the  Well  of  Bethlehem  —  that  is  beside  the  Gate." 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM.  183 

Then,  like  a  far-away  voice  calling  one  out  of  a  dream,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  the  sentry  returning  to  his  post.  Quite 
clearly  I  discerned  him  lifting  his  musket,  shifting  it  from 
one  side  to  the  other,  and  so  resuming  his  equal  tramp.  I 
heard  everything,  indeed,  with  a  kind  of  acuteness  beyond 
the  natural.  Yet  all  the  while  I  was  strangely  without 
sense  of  danger.  I  thought  how  excellent  a  jest  it  would 
be,  to  shout  out  suddenly  when  the  soldier  came  near, 
to  see  him  jump;  and  but  for  the  remembrance  of  my 
mother,  I  protest  I  had  done  it. 

So  there  I  lay  on  the  margin  of  the  well,  just  as  at  the 
first  I  had  flung  myself  down,  without  so  much  as  troub- 
ling thoroughly  to  shut  the  door.  I  am  sure  that  from 
the  corner  where  the  sentry  turned,  he  might  have  seen 
my  boot-heel  every  time,  had  he  but  troubled  to  peep 
round  the  door.  But  he  had  been  so  often  within  the 
well-house  during  his  time  on  guard,  that  he  never 
once  glanced  my  way.  Also  he  was  evidently  elevated 
by  what  he  had  gotten  within  the  house  from  the  serving 
maid,  whatever  that  might  have  been. 

It  was  strange  to  hear  his  step  alternately  faint  and  loud 
as  he  came  and  went.  He  paced  from  the  well-house  to  the 
great  gate,  and  from  thence  to  the  corner  of  the  tower.  Back 
again  he  came,  to-and-fro  like  the  pendulum  of  a  clock. 
Once  he  took  the  butt  of  his  musket  and  gave  the  door, 
within  which  I  lay,  a  sharp  fling  to.  Luckily  it  opened 
from  without,  so  that  the  hasp  caught  as  it  came  and  I 
was  shut  within. 

So  there  I  lay  without  power  to  move  all  that  day, 
and  no  one  came  near  me  till  late  in  the  gloaming.  For 
it  was  the  custom  at  the  Earlstoun  to  draw  the  water  for 
the  day  in  the  early  morning,  and  that  for  the  night 
uses  when  the  horses  were  suppered  at  bed-time.  Some- 
times my  head  seemed  to  swell  to  so  great  a  size,  that 


184  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

it  filled  the  well-house  and  was  pressed  against  the  roof. 
Anon,  to  my  thinking,  it  grew  wizzened  and  small,  waxing 
and  waning  as  I  sickened  and  the  shoots  of  pain  ran 
round  my  brows. 

At  last  I  heard  feet  patter  slowly  down  the  turret  stair 
and  out  at  the  door.  Through  the  courtyard  I  heard 
them  come  towards  me,  and  of  a  sudden  something  sang 
in  my  heart,  though  I  could  have  given  no  great  reason 
therefor. 

Softly  the  door  of  the  well-house  opened,  and  one 
came  in,  giving  a  little  cry  at  so  nearly  stumbling  over 
me.  But  no  power  had  I  to  move  or  speak,  even  though 
it  had  been  Clavers  himself  who  entered.  My  visitor  gently 
and  lightly  shut  to  the  door,  and  knelt  at  my  head. 

"  William  !  "  said  a  voice,  and  I  seemed  in  my  phantasy 
to  be  running  about  among  the  flowers  as  a  child  again. 

I  opened  my  eyes,  and  lo  !  it  was  Maisie  of  the  Duchrae 
—  she  that  had  been  so  kind  to  me.  And  the  wonder  of 
seeing  her  in  my  own  house  of  Earlstoun,  where  the  garrison 
was  abiding,  was  a  better  incitement  to  renewed  vigour  than 
a  double  tasse  of  the  brandy  of  France. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  speech,  so  pulling  me  farther 
within,  she  bent  and  whispered : 

"  William,  I  will  go  and  bring  your  mother.  The  soldiers 
may  not  be  long  away  !  " 

So  she  rose  to  go  out  with  her  pail  full  of  the  water,  for 
which  she  had  come. 

Yet  ere  she  went,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  my  brow,  and 
murmured  very  low,  lest  the  sentry  should  hear, 

"  My  poor  lad  !  " 

Only  that ;  but  it  was  a  thing  which  was  mightily  sweet  to 
me. 

Nor  was  she  long  gone  before  she  returned  with  my 
mother.  They  had  called  the  sentry  in  to  his  evening  meal, 


THE  WELL  OF  BETHLEHEM.  185 

and  supplied  him  with  something  to  drink.  For  they  had 
had  the  garrison  long  enough  with  them  to  learn  that  all 
soldiers  are  great  trenchermen,  and  can  right  nobly  "  claw  a 
bicker  "  and  "  toom  a  stoup  "  with  any  man. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  WELL-HOUSE   OF   EARLSTOUN. 

So  as  soon  as  the  soldier  was  snugly  housed  with  the 
servant  lass,  the  two  women  came  to  me,  where  I  sat  at  the 
back  of  the  door  of  the  well-house.  Chiefly  I  wanted  to 
hear  what  had  brought  Maisie  of  the  Duchrae  so  far  from 
home  as  the  house  of  Earlstoun.  It  seemed  to  betoken 
some  ill  befallen  my  good  friends  by  the  Grenoch  water-side. 
But  my  mother  stooped  down  and  put  her  arms  about  me. 
She  declared  that  she  would  have  me  taken  up  to  the  west 
garret  under  the  rigging,  where,  she  said,  none  of  the  soldiers 
had  ever  been.  But  there  I  would  in  no  wise  go,  for  well  I 
knew  that  so  soon  as  she  had  me  there,  and  a  dozen  soldiers 
between  me  and  a  dash  for  liberty,  she  would  forthwith 
never  rest  until  she  had  me  out  again. 

Then  the  next  idea  was  that  I  should  go  to  the  wattled 
platform  on  the  oak,  to  which  Sandy  resorted ;  but  I  had 
fallen  into  a  violent  horror  of  shaking  and  hot  flushes  alter- 
nating with  deadly  cold,  so  that  to  bide  night  and  day  in 
the  sole  covert  of  a  tree  looked  like  my  death. 

At  last  Maisie  Lennox,  who  had  a  fine  discernment  for 
places  of  concealment  in  the  olfi  days  when  we  two  used  to 
play  at  "  Bogle-about-the-Stacks  "  at  the  Duchrae,  cast  an 
eye  up  at  the  roof  of  the  well-house. 

"  I  declare,  I  think  there  is  a  chamber  up  there,"  she  said, 
and  stood  a  moment  considering. 

"  Give  me  an  ease  up  !  "  she  said  quietly  to  my  mother. 
She  did  everything  quietly. 

186 


THE  WELL-HOUSE  OF  EARLSTOUN.  187 

"How  can  there  be  such  a  place  and  I  not  know  it?" 
said  my  mother.  "  Have  I  not  been  about  the  tower  these 
thirty  years?" 

But  Maisie  thought  otherwise  of  the  matter,  and  without 
more  ado  she  set  her  little  feet  in  the  nicks  of  the  stones, 
which  were  rough-set  like  the  inside  of  a  chimney. 

Then  putting  her  palm  flat  above  her,  she  pushed  an  iron- 
ringed  trap-door  open,  lifted  herself  level  with  it,  and  so 
disappeared  from  our  view.  We  could  hear  her  groping 
above  us,  and  sometimes  little  stones  and  lime  pellets  fell 
tinkling  into  the  well.  So  we  remained  beneath  waiting  for 
her  report,  and  I  hoped  that  it  might  not  be  long,  for  I  felt 
that  soon  I  must  lay  me  down  and  die,  so  terrible  was  the 
tightness  about  my  head. 

"  There  is  a  chamber  here,"  she  cried  at  last.  "  It  is  low 
in  the  rigging  and  part  of  the  roof  is  broken  towards  the 
trees,  but  the  ivy  hides  it  and  the  hole  cannot  be  seen  from 
the  house." 

"  The  very  place  !  Well  done,  young  lass  ! "  said  my 
mother  —  much  pleased,  even  though  she  had  not  found  it 
herself.  For  she  was  a  remarkable  woman. 

Maisie  looked  over  the  edge. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  ?  "  she  said. 

Now  there  is  this  curious  thing  about  this  lass  ever  since 
she  was  in  short  coats,  that  she  not  only  knew  her  own 
mind  in  every  emergency,  but  also  compelled  the  minds  of 
every  one  else.  At  that  moment  it  seemed  as  natural  that 
I  should  obey  her,  and  also  for  my  mother  to  assist  her,  as 
if  she  had  been  a  queen  commanding  obedience.  Yet  she 
hardly  ever  spoke  above  her  breath,  and  always  rather  as 
though  she  were  venturing  a  suggestion.  This  is  not  what 
any  one  can  ever  learn.  It  is  a  natural  gift.  Now  there  is 
my  brother  Sandy.  He  has  a  commanding  way  with  him 
certainly.  He  gets  himself  obeyed.  But  at  what  an  ex- 


188  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

penditure  of  breath.  You  can  hear  him  at  the  Mains  of 
Barskeoch  telling  the  lass  to  put  on  the  porridge  pot.  And 
he  cannot  get  his  feet  wet  and  be  needing  a  change  of 
stockings,  without  the  Ardoch  folk  over  the  hill  hearing  all 
about  it. 

But  I  am  telling  of  the  well-house. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  said  the  lass  Maisie  down  from 
the  trap-door.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that  I  never  dreamed  of 
disobeying.  So  I  put  out  my  hand,  and  in  a  trice  I  was 
up  beside  her. 

My  mother  followed  us  and  we  looked  about.  It  was  a 
little  room  and  had  long  been  given  over  to  the  birds.  I 
marvelled  much  that  in  our  adventurous  youth,  Sandy  and 
I  had  never  lighted  upon  it.  But  I  knew  the  reason  to  be 
that  we  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  the  well,  having  been 
told  a  story  about  a  little  boy  who  tumbled  into  it  in  the 
act  of  disobedience  and  so  was  drowned.  We  heard  also 
what  had  become  of  him  afterwards,  which  discouraged  us 
from  the  forbidden  task  of  exploration. 

I  think  no  one  had  been  in  the  place  since  the  joiners 
left  it,  for  the  shavings  yet  lay  in  the  corner,  among  all  that 
the  birds  and  the  wild  bees  had  brought  to  it  since. 

My  mother  stayed  beside  me  while  Maisie  went  to  bring 
me  a  hot  drink,  for  the  shuddering  grew  upon  me,  and  I 
began  to  have  fierce  pains  in  my  back  and  legs.  My 
mother  told  me  how  that  the  main  guard  of  the  soldiers 
had  been  a  week  away  over  in  the  direction  of  Minnyhive, 
all  but  a  sergeant's  file  that  were  left  to  keep  the  castle. 
To-day  all  these  men,  except  the  sentry,  were  down  drinking 
at  the  change-house  in  the  clachan,  and  not  till  about  mid- 
night would  they  come  roaring  home. 

She  also  told  me  (which  I  much  yearned  to  know),  that 
the  Duchrae  had  at  last  been  turned  out,  and  that  old  Anton 
had  betaken  himself  to  the  hills.  Maisie,  his  daughter, 


THE  WELL-HOUSE  OF  EARLSTOUN.  189 

had  come  to  the  neighbourhood  with  Margaret  Wilson  of 
Glen  Vernock,  the  bright  little  lass  from  the  Shireside  whom 
I  had  first  seen  during  my  sojourn  in  Balmaghie.  Margaret 
Wilson  had  friends  over  at  the  farm  of  Bogue  on  the 
Garpelside.  Very  kind  to  the  hill- folk  they  were,  though 
in  good  enough  repute  with  the  Government  up  till  this 
present  time.  From  there  Maisie  Lennox  had  come  up 
to  Earlstoun,  to  tell  my  mother  all  that  she  knew  of  myself 
and  my  cousin  Wat.  Then,  because  the  two  women  loved 
to  talk  the  one  to  the  other,  at  Earlstoun  she  abode  ever 
since,  and  there  I  found  her. 

So  in  the  well-house  I  remained  day  by  day  in  safety  all 
through  my  sickness. 

The  chamber  over  the  well  was  a  fine  place  for  prayer 
and  meditation.  At  first  I  thought  that  each  turn  of  the 
sentry  would  surely  bring  him  up  the  trap-door  with  sword 
and  musket  pointed  at  me,  and  I  had  little  comfort  in  my 
lodging.  But  gradually,  by  my  falling  to  the  praying  and 
by  the  action  of  time  and  use,  I  minded  the  comings  and 
goings  of  the  soldiers  no  more  than  those  of  the  doves  that 
came  in  to  see  me  at  the  broken  part  of  the  roof,  and  went 
out  again  with  a  wild  flutter  of  their  wings,  leaving  a  little 
woolly  feather  or  two  floating  behind  them. 

And  often  as  I  lay  I  minded  me  how  I  had  heard  Mr. 
Peden  say  at  the  Conventicle  that  "  the  prayers  of  the  saints 
are  like  to  a  fire  which  at  first  gives  off  only  smoke  and  heat, 
but  or  all  be  done  breaketh  out  into  a  clear  light  and  com- 
fortable flame." 

These  were  times  of  great  peace  for  us,  when  the  soldiers 
and  the  young  lairds  that  rode  with  them  for  the  horseman- 
ship part  of  it,  went  off  on  their  excursions,  and  came  not 
back  till  late  at  eventide,  with  many  of  the  Glenkens  wives' 
chuckies  swinging  head  down  at  their  saddle  bows. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

CUPBOARD  LOVE. 

THE  well-house  was  indeed  a  strait  place,  but  my  mother 
had  gotten  one  of  our  retainers  to  put  therein  a  little 
truckle  bedstead  and  bedding,  so  that  I  was  none  so  evilly 
bestowed.  This  man,  whom  she  had  perforce  to  trust,  was 
not  one  of  our  ancients,  but  only  a  stranger  that  had  re- 
cently come  into  the  country  and  taken  service  with  us. 
He  had  been  a  soldier  and  had  even  served  in  His  Majesty's 
Guards.  But,  being  a  Covenanter  at  heart,  he  had  left 
the  service  at  the  peril  of  his  life  and  come  again  to  the 
north.  His  name  was  Patrick  Laing,  and  he  came  of  decent 
folk  over  about  Nithsdale.  He  was  in  high  favour  with  the 
garrison  because  of  his  feats  of  strength ;  but  he  had  to  keep 
carefully  out  of  the  sight  of  Tarn  Dalzyell,  Grier  of  Lag,  and 
the  old  officers  who  remembered  him  in  the  days  when  he 
had  been  a  sergeant  with  the  King's  colours.  Also  he  was 
the  only  man  that  could  keep  steeks  with  John  Scarlet  at 
the  sword  play,  and  I  longed  rarely  to  see  him  try  a  bout 
with  Wat  of  Lochinvar  himself. 

Often  at  night  I  had  converse  with  him,  when  the  soldiers 
were  not  returned  and  it  was  safe  for  him  to  come  to  see  me. 
Here  I  lay  long  prostrate  with  the  low  fever  or  ague  that 
had  taken  me  after  Ayrsmoss.  But  because  I  was  in  my  own 
country  and  within  cry  of  my  mother  and  Maisie  Lennox, 
I  minded  my  imprisonment  not  so  much  as  one  might  think. 

My  mother  came  not  often,  for  she  was  closely  watched 
in  her  incomings  and  outgoings.  But  every  eventide  Maisie 

190 


CUPBOARD  LOVE.  191 

Lennox  brought  me  what  she  could  lay  hands  upon  for  my 
support. 

As  I  grew  whole  we  had  much  merriment,  when  she 
told  me  of  the  straits  she  was  often  in  to  get  slipping  away, 
without  betraying  the  object  of  her  solicitude. 

The  two  eldest  of  my  brother  Sandy's  bairns  were  a  boy 
of  seven  and  a  girl  of  eight,  and  in  a  house  where  the 
soldiers  took  the  most  and  the  best,  there  was  sometimes 
but  scant  fare  for  the  younger  folk. 

Now  none  of  the  serving  folk  or  even  of  the  family 
knew  that  I  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  saving  only  my 
mother,  Maisie  of  the  Duchrae,  and  Patrick  Laing.  To 
tell  more  people  was  to  risk  a  discovery,  which  meant 
not  less  than  a  stretched  tow  rope  for  my  neck,  and  that 
speedily. 

Of  all  Sandy's  bairns  little  Jock  was  the  merriest  and 
the  worst,  and  of  him  Maisie  had  many  stories  to  tell 
me,  making  merry  when  she  brought  me  my  piece  in  the 
twilight. 

"  You  are  getting  me  a  terrible  name  for  a  great  eater," 
she  said.  "  It  was  but  this  day  at  dinner  time  that  Jock 
cried  out,  '  Whatna  daft-like  chuckie  hen !  It's  gotten 
twa  wings  but  only  ae  leg  ! '  For  I  had  hidden  the  other 
on  my  lap  for  you.  That  caused  much  merriment,  for  we 
all  laughed  to  think  of  a  chuckie  hopping  and  standing 
upon  but  one  leg.  Yet  because  Cornet  Graham  was  there, 
we  had  all  to  laugh  somewhat  carefully,  and  pass  the  matter 
off  with  a  jest." 

"  On  another  occasion,"  said  Maisie,  "  when  half  a 
dozen  eggs  could  not  be  found,  little  Jock  cried  out,  '  The 
ae-legged  chuckie  wull  be  clockin'  them ! '  And  this 
caused  more  merriment." 

Such  tales  as  these  Maisie  Lennox  told  me  in  the  quiet  of 
the  gloaming,  when  I  abode  still  in  the  well-house  chamber, 


192  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

and  only  the  drip,  drip  of  the  water  at  the  bottom  came 
to  us.  It  was  strange  and  pleasant  for  me  to  lie  there  and 
hear  her  kind  low  voice  telling  me  humoursome  tales  of 
what  had  befallen  during  the  day. 

Jean  Hamilton,  Sandy's  wife,  came  but  once  to  see  me, 
and  gave  me  much  religious  advice.  She  was  ever  a  great 
woman  for  experiences,  being  by  nature  one  of  those  who 
insist  that  all  shall  be  exactly  of  her  pattern,  a  thing  which 
I  saw  no  hope  of — nor  yet  greatly  desired. 

"My  life  is  all  sin,"  she  would  say,  "if  it  were  but  to 
peel  the  bark  off  a  kail  castock  and  eat,  I  sin  in  the  doing 
of  it !  " 

"That  would  show  a  great  want  of  sense,  at  any  gate, 
gin  ye  could  get  better  meat  to  eat ! "  I  replied,  for  the 
woman's  yatter,  yatter  easily  vexed  me,  being  still  weak. 
Also,  I  wished  greatly  for  her  to  be  gone,  and  for  Maisie 
or  my  mother  to  come  to  me. 

And  again  I  remember  that  she  said  (for  she  was  a  good 
woman,  but  of  the  troublesome  kind  that  ofttimes  do 
more  ill  than  good  —  at  least  when  one  is  tired  and  cannot 
escape  them),  "William,  I  fear  you  never  have  had  the 
grip  o'  the  fundamentals  that  Sandy  hath.  Take  care 
that  you  suffer  not  with  the  saints,  and  yet  come  to  your 
end  as  a  man  of  wrath  !  " 

Now  this  I  thought  to  be  an  ill-timed  saying,  considering 
that  I  had  ridden  at  Ayrsmoss  while  Sandy  was  braw  and 
snug  in  the  Lowlands  of  Holland,  disputing  in  Master 
BrackePs  chamber  at  Leeuwarden  with  Rob  Hamilton,  her 
brother,  concerning  declarations  and  protests. 

"As  for  me,"  she  went  on,  liking  methinks  the  sound 
of  her  own  voice,  "  that  is,  for  my  corps,  I  care  not  gin  it 
were  cast  up  to  the  heaven,  and  keppit  upon  iron  graips,  so 
that  my  soul  had  peace  !  " 

"I  think  that   I  would   even  be   content  to  lie  at  the 


CUPBOARD   LOVE.  193 

bottom  of  this  well  if  I  might  have  peace  ! "  said  I,  for  the 
spirit  within  me  was  jangled  and  easily  set  on  edge  with 
her  corncrake  crying. 

"  William,  William,"  she  said,  "  I  fear  greatly  you  are 
yet  in  the  bond  of  iniquity  !  I  do  but  waste  my  time  with 
you ! " 

Saying  which,  she  let  herself  down  on  the  well-edge, 
lifted  her  pails  and  was  gone. 

In  a  little  came  Maisie  Lennox  with  other  two  buckets. 
The  sentinel,  if  he  thought  at  all,  must  have  set  us  down 
for  wondrous  clean  folk  about  Earlstoun  during  these  days ; 
but  all  passed  off  easily  and  no  notice  tal^en. 

Then  when  Maisie  came,  it  was  a  joy  to  greet  her,  for 
she  was  as  a  friend  —  yes,  as  David  to  Jonathan  —  exceed- 
ing pleasant  to  me.  As  I  have  often  said,  I  am  not  a  man 
to  take  the  eyes  of  women,  and  never  looked  to  be  loved 
by  woman  other  than  my  mother.  But  for  all  that,  I  liked 
to  think  about  love,  and  to  picture  what  manner  of  man  he 
should  be  to  whom  Maisie  Lennox  would  let  all  her  heart 
go  out. 

Every  night  she  came  in  briskly,  laughing  at  having  to 
pull  herself  up  into  the  well-chamber,  and  ever  with  some 
new  story  of  cheer  to  tell  me. 

"  Ken  ye  what  little  Jock  said  this  day  ?  "  she  asked  ere 
her  head  was  well  above  the  trap- door. 

I  told  her  that  I  knew  not,  but  was  eager  to  hear,  for 
that  I  ever  counted  Jock  the  best  bairn  in  all  the  coupe. 

"  It  was  at  dinner,"  she  said,  taking  a  dish  from  under 
her  apron,  "  and  I  minded  that  when  you  were  with  us  at 
the  Duchrae,  you  kept  a  continual  crying  for  burn-trout. 
These  being  served  for  a  first  course,  I  watched  for  a  time 
when  the  servants  were  taken  up  at  the  chamber-end  with 
their  serving,  and  when  the  bairns  were  busy  with  their 
noses  at  their  plates, 
o 


194  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"Then,  when  none  observed,  I  whipped  the  most  part 
of  the  dainty  platterful  of  fish  underneath  my  apron  and 
sat  very  still  and  innocent,  picking  at  the  bones  on  my  plate. 

"  Soon  little  Jock  looked  up.  '  O  mither,  mither  ! '  he 
cried,  'wull  ye  please  to  look  at  Aunty  Maisie,  she  has 
eaten  the  hale  kane  o'  trootses,  banes,  plate  an'  a',  while  we 
were  suppin'  our  broth.' 

"  At  this  there  was  great  wonderment,  and  all  the  children 
came  about,  expecting  to  see  me  come  to  some  hurt  by  so 
mighty  a  meal. 

"'Tell  me,'  cried  Jock,  being  ever  the  foremost,  'how 
far  doon  the  platter  has  gotten.  Are  ye  sure  it  is  not  stick- 
ing somewhere  by  the  road  ? ' 

"  All  the  time  I  sat  with  the  half  score  of  burn-trout  on 
my  lap  covered  by  my  apron,  and  it  was  only  by  pretending 
I  had  burned  myself,  that  I  got  them  at  last  safe  out  of  the 
room." 

With  such  tales  she  pleased  me,  winning  my  heart  all  the 
while,  causing  me  to  forget  my  weakness,  and  to  think  the 
nights  not  long  when  I  lay  awake  listening  to  the  piets  and 
hoolets  crying  about  me  in  the  ancient  woods  of  Earlstoun. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE   BULL  OF   EARLSTOUN'S   HOMECOMING. 

IT  was  about  this  time  that  Sandy  came  home.  It  may 
seem  from  some  parts  of  this  history  that  we  agreed  not 
over  well  together.  But  after  all  it  was  as  brothers  may 
disagree  among  themselves;  though  they  are  banded 
stoutly  enough  against  all  the  world  beside.  I  think  it 
made  us  love  one  another  more  that  recently  we  had 
been  mostly  separate ;  and  so  when  Sandy  came  home 
this  time  and  took  up  his  old  lodging  in  the  tree,  it  was 
certainly  much  heartsomer  at  the  Earlstoun.  For  among 
other  things  our  mother  mostly  went  to  carry  him  his 
meals  of  meat,  taking  with  her  Jean  Hamilton,  Sandy's 
wife,  thus  leaving  only  Maisie  Lennox  to  bring  me  my 
portion  to  the  well-house. 

But  often  in  the  gloaming  Sandy  himself  came  climbing 
up  by  the  ivy  on  the  outside  of  the  well-tower,  letting  his 
great  body  down  through  the  narrow  broken  lattice  in 
the  tiles.  And  in  that  narrow  chamber  we  cheered  one 
another  with  talk.  This  I  liked  well  enough,  so  long 
as  he  spoke  of  Groningen  and  the  Low  Countries.  But 
not  so  well  when  he  began  to  deafen  me  with  his  bicker- 
ings about  the  United  Societies  —  how  there  was  one, 
Patrick  Laing,  a  man  of  fierce  and  determined  nature, 
that  could  not  company  with  other  than  himself;  how 
Mr.  Linning  wrestled  with  the  other  malcontents,  and 
especially  how  he  himself  was  of  so  great  honour  and 
consideration  among  them,  that  they  had  put  off  even 

195 


196  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

so  grave  a  matter  as  a  General  Meeting  that  he  might 
have  time  to  come  from  Edinburgh  to  attend  it.  And 
in  what  manner,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  he  did  it. 

One  night,  while  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  recital, 
the  mighty  voice  of  him  sounding  out  upon  the  night 
brought  the  sentry  from  his  corner  —  who  listened,  but 
could  not  understand  whence  came  the  sounds.  Presently 
the  soldier  called  his  comrade,  and  the  pair  of  them  stole 
to  the  door  of  the  well-house,  where  I  had  lain  so  long 
in  safety.  Sandy  was  in  the  heat  of  his  discourse,  and 
I  sitting  against  the  chamber  wall  in  my  knee-breeches, 
and  with  a  plaid  about  me,  listening  at  my  ease.  For 
long  immunity  had  made  us  both  careless. 

"At  Darmead,  that  well-kenned  place,  we  had  it," 
Sandy  was  saying,  his  long  limbs  extended  half-way 
across  the  floor  as  he  lay  on  the  bare  boards,  and  told 
his  story;  "it  was  a  day  of  glorious  witnessing  and 
contesting.  No  two  of  us  thought  the  same  thing. 
Each  had  his  own  say-away  and  his  own  reasons,  and 
never  a  minister  to  override  us.  Indeed,  since  Ritchie 
lay  down  at  length  on  Ayrsmoss  to  rest  him,  there  is  no 
minister  that  could.  But  I  hear  of  a  young  man,  Renwick, 
that  is  now  with  Mr.  Brackel  of  Leeuwarden,  that  will  scare 
some  of  the  ill-conditioned  when  he  comes  across  the 
water " 

Even  as  he  spoke  thus,  and  blattered  with  the  broad  of 
his  hand  on  his  knee,  the  trap- door  in  the  floor  slowly  lifted 
up.  And  through  the  aperture  came  the  head  of  a  soldier — 
even  that  of  the  sentry  of  the  night,  with  whose  footfalls  I 
had  grown  so  familiar,  that  I  minded  them  no  more  than  the 
ticking  of  the  watch  in  your  pocket  or  the  beating  of  your 
heart  in  the  daytime. 

The  man  seemed  even  more  surprised  than  we,  and  for 
a  long  moment  he  abode  still,  looking  at  Sandy  reclining 


THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN'S  HOMECOMING.       197 

on  the  floor.  And  Sandy  looked  back  at  him  with  his  jaw 
dropped  and  his  mouth  open.  I  could  have  laughed  at 
another  time,  for  they  were  both  great  red  men  with  beards 
of  that  colour,  and  their  faces  were  very  near  one  another, 
like  those  of  the  yokels  that  grin  at  each  other  emulously 
out  of  the  horse  collars  on  the  turbulent  day  of  the  Clachan 
Fair  —  which  is  on  the  eve  of  St.  John,  in  the  time  of 
midsummer. 

Then  suddenly  Sandy  snatched  an  unlighted  lantern,  and 
brought  it  down  on  the  soldier's  head,  which  went  through 
the  trap-door  like  Jack-out-of-the-box  being  shut  down 
again. 

"Tak'  the  skylight  for  it,  William,"  Sandy  cried.  "I'll 
e'en  gang  doon  an'  see  what  this  loon  wants  ! " 

So  snatching  a  sword  that  lay  upon  the  boards  by  his  side, 
Sandy  went  down  the  trap  after  his  man.  I  heard  him  fall 
mightily  upon  the  two  soldiers  to  whom  had  been  com- 
mitted the  keeping  of  the  house  that  night.  In  that  narrow 
place  he  gripped  them  both  with  the  first  claucht  of  his 
great  arms,  and  dadded  their  heads  together,  exhorting 
them  all  the  time  to  repent  and  think  on  their  evil  ways. 

"  Wad  ye,  then,  vermin,"  he  cried  as  one  and  another 
tried  to  get  at  him  with  their  weapons  round  the  narrow 
edge  of  the  well-curb ;  and  I  heard  one  after  another  of 
their  tools  clatter  down  the  masonry  of  the  well,  and  plump 
into  the  water  at  the  bottom.  The  men  were  in  their  heavy 
marching  gear,  being  ready  at  all  times  for  the  coming  of 
Clavers,  who  was  a  great  man  for  discipline,  and  very  par- 
ticular that  the  soldiers  should  always  be  properly  equipped 
whenever  it  might  please  him  to  arrive.  And  because  he 
loved  night  marches  and  sudden  surprises,  the  men  took 
great  pains  with  their  accoutrement. 

"  Can  I  help  ye,  Sandy?  "  I  cried  down  through  the  hole. 

"  Bide  ye  whaur  ye  are,  man.     I  can  manage  the  bullions 


198  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

fine  !  Wad  ye,  then  ?  Stan'  up  there  back  to  back,  or  I'll 
gie  ye  anither  daud  on  the  kerb  that  may  leave  some  o' 
your  harns  *  stickin'  to  it.  Noo,  I'll  put  the  rape  roon  ye, 
an'  ease  ye  doon  to  a  braw  and  caller  spot !  " 

I  looked  down  the  trap  and  saw  Sandy  roving  the  spare 
coil  of  well-rope  round  and  round  his  two  prisoners.  He 
had  their  hands  close  to  their  sides,  and  whenever  one  of 
them  opened  his  mouth,  Sandy  gave  his  head  a  knock  with 
his  open  hand  that  drave  him  silent  again,  clapping  his 
teeth  together  like  castanets  from  Spain. 

As  soon  as  he  had  this  completed  to  his  satisfaction,  he 
lifted  the  bucket  from  the  hook,  and  began  to  lower  the 
men  down  the  shaft,  slinging  them  to  the  rope  by  the  belly- 
bands  of  His  Majesty's  regimental  breeches. 

The  men  cried  out  to  ask  if  he  meant  to  drown  them. 

"  Na,  na,  droon  nane,"  said  Sandy.  "  There's  but  three 
feet  o'  water  in  the  well.  Ye'll  be  fine  and  caller  doon 
there  a'  nicht,  but  gin  ye  as  muckle  as  gie  a  cry  afore  the 
morrow's  sunrise  —  weel,  ye  hae  heard  o'  Sandy  Gordon  o' 
the  Earlstoun  !  " 

And  this,  indeed,  feared  the  men  greatly,  for  he  was  cele- 
brated for  his  strength  and  daring  all  athwart  the  country ; 
and  especially  among  soldiers  and  common  people,  who, 
as  is  well  known,  are  never  done  talking  about  feats  of 
strength. 

This  being  completed,  he  brought  me  down  from  my  loft 
and  took  me  into  the  house  to  bid  the  women  folk  farewell. 
They  cried  out  with  terror  when  he  told  them  what  he  had 
done  as  a  noble  jest,  and  how  he  had  bound  the  soldiers 
and  put  them  in  the  well-bottom.  But  my  mother  said 
sadly,  "  It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end  !  O  Sandy,  why  could 
you  not  have  been  content  with  scaring  them?  " 

"  It  was  our  lives  or  theirs,  mither,"  said  Sandy.  "  Had 
*  Brains. 


THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN'S   HOMECOMING.        199 

they  gotten  room  to  put  steel  into  me,  your  first-born  son 
wad  hae  been  at  the  well-bottom,  wi'  his  heid  doon  an'  his 
mooth  open,  and  your  second  dangling  in  a  hempen  collar 
in  the  Grass  Market.  The  eggs  are  all  in  one  basket  now, 
mither  ! " 

"  Haste  ye  away  ! "  cried  she,  "  lest  the  soldiers  break 
lowse  and  come  and  find  ye  here  ! " 

"They  hae  somewhat  better  sense  than  to  break  lowse 
this  nicht,"  said  Sandy,  grimly  smiling.  "  I'm  gaun  nane  to 
tak'  the  heather  withoot  my  supper." 

So  he  sat  him  down  on  the  settle  like  a  man  at  ease  and 
well  content. 

"Jean,  fetch  the  plates,"  he  said  to  his  wife ;  "  it's  graund 
to  be  hungry  an'  ken  o*  meat ! " 

Maisie  Lennox  stood  quietly  by ;  but  I  could  see  that  she 
liked  not  the  turn  of  affairs,  nor  the  reckless  way  that  Sandy 
had  of  driving  all  things  before  him. 

"  Haste  ye,  young  lass,"  he  said  to  her,  and  at  the  word 
she  went  quietly  to  help  Jean  Hamilton. 

"Whither  gang  ye? "  our  mother  said  to  us,  as  we  made 
us  ready  to  flee.  "Mind  and  be  canny  wi'  that  laddie, 
Sandy,  for  he  has  been  ill  and  needs  care  and  tendance  to 
this  day." 

And  it  pleased  me  to  see  that  Maisie  Lennox  looked  pale 
and  anxious  when  she  came  near  me.  But  no  word  spoke 
she. 

"Na,  mither.  I'll  no  tell  ye  whaur  we  gang,  for  ye 
micht  be  put  to  the  question,  and  now  ye  can  say  ye  dinna 
ken  wi'  a  guid  conscience." 

I  got  a  word  with  Maisie  at  the  stair  foot  as  she  went  up 
to  bring  some  plaid  or  kerchief  down,  which  our  mother 
insisted  I  should  take  with  me. 

"  Maisie,"  I  said,  "  ye '11  no  forget  me,  will  ye  ?  " 
•     But  she  would  give  me  no  great  present  satisfaction. 


200  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"There  are  so  many  gay  things  in  my  life  to  gar  me 
forget  a  friend  ! "  was  all  she  said ;  but  she  looked  down 
and  pulled  at  her  apron. 

"  Nay,  but  tell  me,  my  lassie,  will  ye  think  every  day  o' 
the  lad  ye  nursed  in  the  well-house  chamber?  " 

"Your  mother  is  crying  on  me,"  she  said;  "let  me  go, 
William  "  (though  indeed  I  was  not  touching  her). 

I  was  turning  away  disappointed  with  no  word  more,  but 
very  suddenly  she  snatched  my  hand  which  had  fallen  to 
my  side,  pressed  it  a  moment  to  her  breast,  and  then  fled 
upstairs  like  a  young  roe. 

So,  laden  with  wrappings,  Sandy  and  I  took  our  way  over 
the  moor,  making  our  path  through  our  own  oakwood, 
which  is  the  largest  in  Galloway,  and  out  by  Blawquhairn  and 
Gordiestoun  upon  the  moor  of  Bogue  —  a  wet  and  marshy 
place,  save  in  the  height  of  the  dry  season.  Sandy  was  for 
going  towards  a  hold  that  he  had  near  the  lonely,  wind- 
swept loch  of  Knockman,  which  lies  near  the  top  of  a  hill  of 
heather  and  bent.  But  as  we  came  to  the  breast  of  the 
Windy  Brae,  I  felt  my  weakness,  and  a  cold  sweat  began  to 
drip  from  me. 

"  Sandy,"  I  said  to  my  brother,  taking  him  by  the  hand  lest 
he  should  go  too  fast  for  me,  "  I  fear  I  shall  be  but  a  trouble 
to  you.  Leave  me,  I  pray  you,  at  Gordiestoun  to  take  my 
chance,  and  hie  you  to  the  heather.  It'll  maybe  no  be  a 
hanging  matter  wi'  me  at  ony  gate." 

"  Hear  till  him,"  said  Sandy,  "  leave  him  !  I'll  leave  the 
laddie  nane.  The  man  doesna  breathe  that  Sanquhar  and 
Ayrsmoss  are  no  eneuch  to  draw  the  thrapple  o',  were  it  my 
Lord  Chancellor  himseP  !  " 

He  bent  and  took  me  on  his  back.  "  There  na,  is  that 
comfortable?"  he  said;  and  away  he  strode  with  me  as 
though  he  had  been  a  giant. 

"  Man,  ye  need  mony  a  bow  o'  meal  to  your  ribs,"  he 


THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN'S   HOMECOMING.        201 

cried,  making  light  of  the  load.  "  Ye  are  no  heavier  than 
a  lamb  in  the  poke-neuk  o'  a  plaid." 

I  think  he  was  sorry  for  stirring  me  from  the  well-chamber, 
and  the  thought  of  his  kindness  made  me  like  him  better 
than  I  had  manned  to  do  for  some  time. 

And  indeed  my  weight  seemed  no  more  to  him,  than  that 
of  a  motherless  suckling  to  a  shepherd  on  the  hill,  when  he 
steps  homeward  at  the  close  of  the  day.  It  is  a  great 
thing  to  be  strong.  If  only  Sandy  had  possessed  the  knack 
of  gentleness  with  it,  he  would  have  been  a  great  man.  As 
it  was,  he  was  only  the  Bull  of  Earlstoun. 

We  kept  in  our  flight  over  the  benty  fell  towards  Miln- 
mark,  but  holding  more  down  to  the  right  towards  the 
Garpel  burn  where  there  are  many  dens  and  fastnesses, 
and  where  the  Covenant  folk  had  often  companied  together. 

I  was  afraid  to  think  what  should  come  to  my  sickness, 
when  the  cold  shelves  of  the  rock  by  the  Dass  of  the 
Holy  Linn  would  be  my  bed,  instead  of  the  comfortable 
blankets  of  the  well- house.  And,  truth  to  tell,  I  was  not 
thanking  my  brother  for  his  heedlessness  in  compelling 
the  exchange,  when  I  felt  him  stumble  down  the  steep 
bank  of  the  Garpel  and  stride  across,  the  water  dashing 
about  his  legs  as  he  waded  through  —  taking,  as  was  his 
wont,  no  thought  of  an  easy  way  or  of  keeping  of  himself 
dry,  but  just  going  on  ram-stam  till  he  had  won  clear. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

JEAN'S  WA'S. 

THEN  on  the  other  side  he  brushed  through  a  little  wood 
of  oak  and  hazel.  I  felt  the  twigs  rough  in  my  face.  Climb- 
ing a  steep  brae,  Sandy  set  me  down  at  the  end  of  a  house 
with  some  bits  of  offices  about  it,  and  a  pleasant  homely 
smell  of  cows  and  pasturage.  Saving  these,  there  were 
none  of  the  other  signs  of  a  farm-town,  but  rather  a  brisk 
cleanliness  and  well-ordered  neatness. 

Sandy  went  to  the  door  and  knocked,  and  in  a  little 
while  one  answered  at  the  southmost  of  the  windows. 
Then  a  whispered  word  was  given  and  taken.  The  door 
was  opened  and  we  went  into  the  dark  house.  A  sweet- 
faced  old  lady  who  stood  in  the  narrow  passage,  gowned 
even  at  that  time  of  night  with  some  precision,  took  me  by 
the  arm.  She  held  a  candle  aloft  in  her  hand. 

"Come  awa',  laddie,"  she  said.  "Ye  shallna  try  the 
unkindly  dasses  o'  the  Linn  yet  awhile,  nor  yet  lie  in 
'Duncan's  Pantry,'  which  has  small  store  of  victual  in  it. 
But  ye  shall  bide  this  nicht  wi'  Jean  Gordon  o'  the  Shirmers, 
that  has  still  some  spunk  in  her  yet,  though  folk  say  that 
she  died  o'  love  thirty  years  syne.  Hoot,  silly  clavers, 
Jean  Gordon  could  hae  gotten  a  man  ony  time,  had  she 
been  wantin'  yin." 

We  were  indeed  at  Jean  Gordon's  famous  cot  by  the 
side  of  the  bonny  Garpel  burn.  And  it  was  not  long 
till  she  had  me  cosy  in  bed,  and  Sandy,  to  whom  all 

202 


JEAN'S  WA'S.  203 

weathers  and  lodgings  were  alike,  away  to  his  hiding  in 
the  Cleuch  beneath,  where  some  of  his  society  men  were 
that  night  holding  a  meeting  for  prayer. 

The  cottage  sat  bonnily  on  the  brink  of  a  glen,  and 
almost  from  my  very  window  began  the  steep  and  precipi- 
tous descent.  So  that  if  the  alarm  were  suddenly  given, 
there  was  at  least  a  chance  of  flinging  myself  out  of 
the  window  and  dropping  into  the  tangled  sides  of  the 
Linn  of  Garpel.  The  thought  of  the  comfort  in  Jean's 
cot  made  me  the  more  willing  to  take  the  risk.  For 
I  knew  well  that  if  I  had  to  venture  the  damps  and 
chills  of  the  glen  without  any  shelter  after  my  illness, 
it  would  fare  but  poorly  with  me.  So  all  that  night  I 
lay  and  listened  to  the  murmur  of  the  water  beneath, 
dashing  about  the  great  upstanding  rocks  in  the  channel. 

But  other  sound  there  was  none,  and  to  this  sweet 
sequestered  spot  came  none  to  seek  us. 

Here  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Garpel,  Sandy  and  I 
abode  many  days.  And  though  the  glen  was  searched, 
and  patrol  parties  more  than  once  came  our  way,  not  one 
of  them  approached  near  the  fastness  of  thickets  where 
in  the  daytime  we  were  hidden.  And  each  night,  in 
all  safety,  I  betook  me  to  the  cottage  of  Jean  Gordon. 

Jean's  story  had  been  a  sad  one,  but  she  made  little  of 
it  now,  though  it  was  well  known  to  all  the  country-side. 

"The  Lord  has  taken  away  the  stang  of  pain  out  of 
my  life,"  she  said.  "  I  was  but  a  lass  when  I  came  to 
the  Garpel  thinking  my  heart  broken.  Yince  I  loved 
a  braw  lad,  bonny  to  look  upon  —  and  he  loved  me, 
or  I  was  the  more  deceived.  Lindsay  was  his  name. 
Doubtless  ye  have  heard  the  common  tale.  He  slighted 
my  love  and  left  me  without  a  word.  Waes  me,  but 
the  very  lift  turned  black  when  I  heard  it,  and  I  cried 
out  on  the  liars  that  said  the  like.  But  belief  came 


204  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

slowly  to  me.  The  loch  is  very  near  to  the  Shirmers 
where  I  dwelt,  and  the  tower  window  looks  down  into  the 
black  deeps  from  among  the  ivy  bushes  on  the  wall.  My 
thoughts  ofttimes  turned  on  the  short  and  easy  road  to 
peace.  But  praise  be  to  His  marvellous  name,  I  saw  another 
way.  So  I  biggit  me  this  bit  house  on  the  bonny  birk-grown 
sides  o'  the  Garpel,  and  e'en  came  my  ways  to  bide  here. 

"  <  Ye'll  sune  get  a  man,  for  ye're  bonny  !  Never  fash 
your  thumb  for  Lindsay  ! '  said  my  kin." 

"Til  get  nae  man,'  I  threepit  to  them.  'What  one 
slighted  shall  never  be  given  to  another.'  So  forty  year 
have  I  bidden  here,  and  heard  little  but  the  mavis  sing  and 
the  cushie  complain.  Think  weel  o'  yourseP,  Willie,  lad,  for 
ye  are  the  first  man  body  that  has  ever  bidden  the  nicht 
within  Jean's  Wa's.  Sandy,  great  as  he  thinks  himseF,  can  tak' 
the  Linn  side  for  it.  He  is  weather-seasoned  like  the  red  tod 
o'  the  hills ;  but  ye  are  shilpit  and  silly,  boy  William,  so  ye 
had  best  bide  wi'  auld  Jean  when  ye  can.  There's  few  in 
Gallowa'  daur  meddle  wi'  puir  Jean,  for  she  is  kin  to  John 
Graham  o'  Claverhouse  himseP,  and  even  the  erne's  cousin 
is  no  a  canny  bird  to  meddle  wi'." 

So  again  I  had  fallen  on  my  feet,  as  has  mostly  been  my 
fortune  with  women.  Though,  alas,  that  I  should  have  to 
confess  it,  chiefly  because  of  my  weakness,  and  with  the 
elder  sort  of  them. 

Here  after  a  day  or  two,  there  came  to  Jean  Gordon,  my 
hostess  of  the  night  season,  a  letter  from  Sandy's  wife,  Jean 
Hamilton,  with  sad  news  of  them  at  Earlstoun.  It  was 
intended  for  my  brother,  but  according  to  the  custom  of 
these  days,  it  was  not  so  addressed,  for  the  transmission  of 
such  letters  was  too  dangerous  at  that  time. 

"Dear  Mistress"  (so  it  ran),  "your  letter  did  yield 
great  satisfaction  to  me,  and  now  I  have  good  words  to  tell 
you.  The  Lord  is  doing  great  things  for  me.  Colvin  and 


JEAN'S  WA'S.  20$ 

Clavers  (Cornel)  have  put  us  out  of  all  that  we  have,  so 
that  we  know  not  where  to  go. 

"I  am  for  the  present  in  a  cot  house.  Oh,  blessed 
cottage !  As  soon  as  my  enemies  began  to  roar  against 
me,  so  quickly  came  my  kind  Lord  to  me  and  did  take 
my  part.  He  made  the  enemies  to  favour  me,  and  He 
gave  me  kindly  welcome  to  this  cottage. 

"  Well  may  I  say  that  His  yoke  is  easy  and  His  burden  light. 

"  Dear  Mistress  Jean,  praise  God  on  my  behalf,  and 
cause  all  that  love  Him  to  praise  Him  on  my  behalf.  I 
fear  that  I  miscarry  under  His  kind  hand. 

"  Colvin  is  reigning  here  like  a  prince,  getting '  his  honour ' 
at  every  word.  But  he  hath  not  been  rude  to  me.  He 
gave  me  leave  to  take  out  all  that  I  had.  What  matters 
suffering  after  all !  But,  oh  !  the  sad  fallings  away  of  some  ! 
I  cannot  give  a  full  account  of  them. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  write  on  but  a  stone  by  the  water-side, 
and  know  not  how  soon  the  enemy  may  be  upon  me.  I 
entreat  you  to  send  me  your  advice  what  to  do.  The 
enemy  said  to  me  that  I  should  not  get  to  stay  in  Galloway 
gif  I  went  not  to  their  kirk. 

"They  said  I  should  not  even  stay  in  Scotland,  for  they 
would  pursue  me  to  the  far  end  of  it,  but  I  should  be  forced 
to  go  to  their  church.  The  persecution  is  great.  There 
are  many  families  that  are  going  to  leave  their  houses  and 
go  out  of  the  land.  Gif  you  have  not  sent  my  former  letter, 
let  it  not  now  go,  but  send  this  as  quickly  as  you  can.  I 
fear  our  friends  will  be  much  concerned.  I  have  written 
that  Alexander  may  not  venture  to  come  home.  I  entreat 
that  you  will  write  that  to  him  and  close  mine  within  yours. 
I  have  not  backed  his.  Send  me  all  your  news.  Remember 
me  to  all  friends.  I  desire  to  be  reminded  to  them. 

"  I  rest,  in  haste,  your  loving  friend  and  servant, 

"JEAN  HAMILTON." 


206  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Now,  I  declare  that  this  letter  made  me  think  better  than 
ever  before  of  Sandy's  wife,  for  I  am  not  gifted  with  appro- 
priate and  religious  reflections  in  the  writing  of  letters  my- 
self. But  very  greatly  do  I  admire  the  accomplishment. 
Jean  was  in  time  of  peace  greatly  closed  up  within  herself; 
but  in  time  of  extrusion  and  suffering,  her  narrow  heart 
expanded.  Notwithstanding  the  strange  writing-desk  of 
stone  by  the  water-side,  the  letter  was  well  written,  but  the 
great  number  of  words  which  had  been  blurred  and  cor- 
rected as  to  their  spelling,  revealed  the  turmoil  and  anxiety 
of  the  writer.  I  have  kept  it  before  me  as  I  write  this 
history,  so  that  I  might  give  it  exactly. 

Thus  we  learned  that  Sandy's  side  of  the  house  was  safe ; 
but  what  of  our  mother  and  Maisie  Lennox  ? 

"Jean  says  nothing,"  said  Sandy,  when  I  told  him. 
"  Good  news  is  no  news  ! " 

And  truly  this  is  an  easy  thing  for  him  to  say,  who  has 
heard  news  about  his  own.  Jean  Gordon  sent  over  to  her 
sister's  son  at  Barscobe  for  word,  but  could  hear  nothing 
save  that  the  Earlstoun  ladies  had  been  put  out  of  their 
house  without  insult  or  injury,  and  had  gone  away  no  man 
knew  whither.  So  with  this  in  the  meantime  we  were 
obliged  to  rest  as  content  as  we  might. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

PLAIN  WORDS  UPON  MEN. 

"  HEIGHTY-TEIGHTY,"  said  Jean  Gordon,  of  the  Shirmers, 
coming  in  to  me  with  a  breakfast  piece  one  morning  as  soon 
as  she  heard  that  I  was  awake.  "The  silly  folks  keep  on 
bletherin'  that  I  cam'  awa'  here  to  dee  for  love.  Weel,  I  hae 
leeved  forty  year  in  Jean's  cot  o'  the  Garpel  and  I'm  no  dead 
yet.  I  wat  no  !  I  cam'  here  to  be  oot  o'  the  men's  road. 
Noo,  there's  my  sister  ower  by  at  Barscobe.  She  was  muckle 
the  better  o'  a  man,  was  she  no  ?  Never  sure  whether  he  wad 
come  hame  sober  and  weel  conditioned  frae  kirk  or  market. 
In  the  fear  o'  her  life  every  time  that  she  heard  the  soond  o' 
his  voice  roarin'  in  the  yaird,  to  ken  what  was  crossin'  him, 
and  in  what  fettle  the  wee  barn-door  Almichty  wad  be  pleased 
to  come  ben-the-hoose  in  !  Wadna  the  like  o'  that  be  a  bonny 
exchange  for  the  peace  and  quaitness  o'  the  Garpel  side?" 

And  the  old  lady  shook  the  white  trimmings  of  her  cap, 
which  was  daintily  and  fairly  goffered  at  the  edges.  "  Na, 
na,"  she  said,  "  yince  bitten,  twice  shy.  I  hae  had  eneuch 
o'  men  —  nesty,  saucy,  ill-favoured  characters.  Wi'  half  a 
nose  on  ye,  ye  can  tell  as  easy  gin  yin  o'  them  be  in  the 
hoose,  as  gin  he  hed  been  a  tod  ! " 

"And  am  I  not  a  man,  Aunty  Jean? "  I  asked,  for  indeed 
she  had  been  very  kind  to  me. 

"  Hoot,  a  laddie  like  you  is  no  a  man.  Nae  beard  like 
bristles,  nae  luntin'  stinkin'  pipes  an'  a  skin  like  my  lady's  — 
that's  no  a  man.  By  my  silk  hose  and  shoe  strings,  gin  I 
get  as  muckle  as  the  wind  o'  a  man  body  atween  me  and  the 

207 


208  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Bogue  road,  I  steek  baith  the  inner  and  the  outer  doors  to 
keep  awa'  the  waff  o'  the  brock.  Foul  fa'  them  every 
yin  ! " 

This  made  me  laugh,  indeed;  but  after  all  it  did  not 
please  me  greatly  to  hear  that  I  was  taken  for  less  than  a 
man. 

"  Now  there's  Sandy,"  she  went  on,  for  she  ever  loved  to 
talk,  "  he's  a  great  senseless  sturdy  o'  a  craitur.  Yet  he  could 
get  a'  the  wives  he  wants,  by  just  coming  doon  like  a  tod 
aff  the  hill,  and  takin'  yin  below  his  oxter.  An*  the  puir  bit 
bleatin'  hizzie  wad  think  she  likit  it.  Lord  !  some  folk  tak' 
a  man  as  they  tak'  a  farm,  by  the  acre.  But  no  me  —  no 
me.  Na  !  Gin  I  was  thinkin'  o'  men,  the  bonny  ticht  lad 
is  the  lad  for  me ;  the  lad  wi'  the  cockade  set  in  his  bonnet 
an'  a  leg  weel  shapit ;  neither  bowed  out  frae  the  knees  like 
haystack  props,  nor  yet  bent  in  like  a  cooper  ridin'  on  the 
riggin'  o'  a  barrel." 

"But  what  for  did  ye  no  tak'  yin  then?"  I  said,  speak- 
ing through  the  door  of  the  spence  as  she  moved  about  the 
house,  ordering  the  porridge-making  and  keeping  an  eye  on 
the  hen's  meat  as  well. 

It  eased  my  heavy  thought,  to  hear  the  heartsome  clip  of 
her  tongue  —  for  all  the  world  like  a  tailor's  shears,  brisker 
when  it  comes  to  the  selvage.  So  when  Jean  Gordon  got  in 
sight  of  the  end  of  her  sentence,  she  snipped  out  her  words 
with  a  glibness  beyond  any  Gordon  that  ever  I  heard  of. 
For  the  Gordons  are,  according  to  proverb,  slow  people 
with  their  tongues,  save  as  they  say  by  two  and  two  at  the 
canny  hour  of  e'en. 

But  never  slow  at  morn  or  mirk  was  our  Aunt  Jean  of 
Wa's  by  the  Garpel  burn. 

"  It's  a  strange  thing,"  she  said,  looking  through  the  hall 
door  at  me,  "  that  you  an'  me  can  crack  like  twa  wives  that 
hae  gotten  their  men  out  o'  the  hearin'.  My  lad,  I  fear  ye 


PLAIN  WORDS  UPON  MEN.  209 

will  creep  into  women's  hearts  because  ye  make  them  vexed 
for  ye.  Ye  hae  sic  innocent  ways.  Oh,  I  doot  na  but  it's 
the  guile  o*  ye ;  but  it  was  ever  sae. 

"  Mony  a  mewlin',  peuterin'  body  has  great  success  wi' 
the  weemen  folk.  They  think  it's  a  peety  that  he  should 
be  so  innocent,  an'  they  tak'  haud  o'  the  craitur,  juist  to 
keep  off  the  ither  designin'  weeman.  Oh,  I'm  far  frae  de- 
nyin'  that  we  are  a  pack  o'  silly  craiturs.  A'thing  that 
wears  willy-coats ;  no  yin  muckle  to  better  anither  !  " 

"But  aboot  yourseP,  Aunty  Jean?"  I  ventured,  in  order 
to  stir  her  to  reckless  speech,  which  was  like  fox-hunting  to 
me. 

"Wha?  Me?  Certes,  no!  I  gat  the  stoor  oot  o'  my 
e'en  braw  an'  early.  I  took  the  cure-all  betimes,  as  the 
lairds  tak'  their  mornin'  o'  French  brandy.  When  Tarn 
Lindsay  gaed  aff  wi'  his  fleein'  flagarie  o'  a  muckle-tochered 
Crawford  lass,  /vowed  that  I  wad  hae  dune  wi'  men.  An' 
so  I  had ! 

"  Whenever  a  loon  cam'  here  in  his  best  breeks,  and  a 
hingin'  look  in  the  e'e  o'  the  craitur  that  meant  courtin', 
faith,  I  juist  set  the  dowgs  on  the  scullion.  I  keepit  a  fear- 
some tyke  on  purpose,  wi'  a  jaw  ontill  him  like  Jonah's 
whale.  Aye,  aye,  mony's  the  braw  lad  that  has  gane  doon 
that  brae,  wi'  Auld  Noll  ruggin'  an'  reevin'  at  the  hinder- 
lands  o'  him  —  bonny  it  was  to  see  ! " 

"  Did  ye  think,  as  ye  watched  them  gang,  that  it  was  your 
Lindsay,  Aunty  Jean?  "  I  asked ;  for,  indeed,  her  well-going 
talk  eased  my  heart  in  the  midst  of  so  many  troubles.  For 
I  declare  that  during  these  thirty  years  in  Scotland,  and 
especially  in  the  Glenkens,  folk  had  almost  forgotten  the 
way  to  laugh. 

"Na,  na,  callant,"  so  she  would  say  to  me  in  return, 
"  I  ne'er  blamed  him  sair  ava'.  Tarn  Lindsay  was  never 
sair  fashed  wi'  sense  a'  the  days  o'  his  life  —  at  least  no 
p 


210  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS- HAGS. 

to  hurt  him,  ony  mair  nor  yerseP,  as  yin  micht  say. 
It  was  the  Crawford  woman  and  her  weel-feathered  nest 
that  led  him  awa',  like  a  bit  silly  cuddie  wi'  a  carrot  afore 
his  nose.  But  I'll  never  deny  the  randy  that  she  was 
clever;  for  she  took  the  craitur's  size  at  the  first  look, 
as  neat  as  if  she  had  been  measurin'  him  for  a  suit  o' 
claes.  But  she  did  what  I  never  did,  or  my  name  had 
been  Jean  Lindsay  this  day.  The  Lord  in  His  mercy 
be  thankit  continually  that  it  is  as  it  is,  and  that  I  hae 
nae  auld  dotard,  grumphin'  an'  snortin'  at  the  chimley  lug. 
She  cuitled  Tarn  Lindsay  an'  flairdied  him  an'  spak'  him 
fair,  till  the  poor  fathom  o'  pump  water  thocht  himsel' 
the  brawest  lad  in  braid  Scotland.  Faith,  I  wadna  sae 
bemean  mysel'  to  get  the  king  oot  o'  Whitehall  —  wha 
they  tell  me  is  no  that  ill  to  get,  gin  yin  had  the  chance  — 
and  in  muckle  the  same  way  as  Tarn  Lindsay.  Oh,  what 
a  set  o'  blind,  brainless,  handless,  guid-for-naethings  are 
men  ! " 

"  It  was  with  that  ye  began,  Aunty  Jean,"  I  said. 

"  Aye,  an'  I  shall  end  wi'  it  too,"  she  answered.  "  I'm 
no  theology  learned,  but  it  looks  terribly  like  as  if  the  rib 
story  were  gye  near  the  truth.  For  the  poorest  o'  weemen 
can  mak'  a  great  muckle  oot  o'  a  very  little,  an'  the  best 
o'  men  are  sadly  troubled  wi'  a  sair  want.  I  misdoot 
that  Aydam  maun  hae  missed  mair  nor  the  rib  when  he 
waukened." 

My  pleasant  time  in  the  cottage  by  the  Carpel  came 
all  too  soon  to  an  end.  It  is,  indeed,  a  rare  and  heart- 
some  place  to  bide  in  on  a  summer's  day.  There  is 
the  sound  of  the  birds  singing,  the  plash  of  the  water 
into  the  pool  beneath  the  Holy  Linn,  where  the  ministers 
held  the  great  baptizing  of  bairns,  when  the  bonny  burn 
water  dropped  of  its  own  accord  on  their  brows  as  their 
fathers  held  them  up.  There  are  the  leaves  rubbing  against 


PLAIN   WORDS    UPON  MEN.  211 

one  another  with  a  pleasant  soughing  noise.  These  kept 
my  heart  stirring  and  content  as  long  as  I  abode  in  the 
Glen  of  the  Garpel. 

There  is  in  particular  one  little  hill  with  a  flat  top,  from 
which  one  may  spy  both  up  and  down  the  Glen,  yet  be 
hidden  under  the  leaves.  Here  I  often  frequented  to  go, 
though  Sandy  warned  me  that  this  would  be  my  death.  Yet 
I  liked  it  best  of  all  places  in  the  daytime,  and  lay  there 
prone  on  my  belly  for  many  hours  together,  very  content, 
chewing  sorrel,  clacking  my  heels  together,  and  letting  on 
that  I  was  meditating.  But,  indeed,  I  never  could  look  at 
water  slipping  away  beneath  me,  without  letting  it  bear  my 
thoughts  with  it  and  leave  me  to  the  dreaming.  And  the 
Garpel  is  an  especially  pleasant  burn  to  watch  thus  running 
from  you.  I  have  had  the  same  feelings  in  church  when 
the  sermon  ran  rippleless  and  even  over  my  head. 

The  only  thing  that  annoyed  me  was  that  on  the  Sabbath 
days  the  Garpel  became  a  great  place  for  lovers  to  convene. 
And  above  all,  at  one  angle  behind  Jean  Gordon's  cot, 
there  is  a  bower  planted  with  wild  flowers  —  pleasant  and 
retired  doubtless,  for  them  that  are  equipped  with  a  lass.  But 
as  for  me,  I  pleased  myself  by  thinking  that  one  day  I 
should  shape  to  bring  Maisie  Lennox  there  to  see  my 
hiding-place,  for,  as  a  little  maid,  she  ever  loved  woods 
that  rustle  and  waters  that  flow  softly.  So  chiefly  on 
the  Sabbath  I  kept  close  in  my  covert  with  a  book ;  but 
whether  from  motives  of  safety  or  envy,  it  misliketh  me 
to  tell. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THE  GARDENER  OF  BALMAGHIE. 

I  WAS  wakened  one  morning  by  Jean  coming  to  the  side 
of  my  bed.  She  was  fully  dressed,  as  if  to  receive  company, 
and  her  tall  and  straight  figure  looked  imposing  enough. 

"  Rise  ! "  she  said.  "  Rise  !  there's  a  chiel  here,  that 
wants  ye  to  gang  wi'  him." 

"A  chiel,  Jean  Gordon?"  said  I,  in  a  sleepy  kind  of 
surprise.  "  What  ken  ye  aboot  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  ken  he's  a  honest  lad,"  she  said,  "an'  he  brings  ye 
a  message  frae  the  gardener  o'  Balmaghie  that  ye  are  to 
accompany  him  there  for  greater  safety." 

"  A  likely  story !  "  returned  I,  for  I  was  none  too  well 
pleased  to  be  wakened  up  out  of  my  sleep  at  that  time 
in  the  morning  to  see  a  regiment  of  Balmaghie  gardeners. 
"There  is  great  safety  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
eagle's  nest!" 

"  There  is  so,"  said  Jean  Gordon,  dryly  —  "  for  sparrows. 
Tis  the  safest  place  in  the  world  for  the  like  of  them  to 
build,  for  the  eagle  will  not  touch  them,  an'  the  lesser  gleds 
dare  not  come  near." 

Nor  do  I  think  that  this  saying  pleased  me  over  well, 
because  I  thought  that  a  Gordon  of  Earlstoun,  of  whatever 
rank,  was  a  city  set  on  a  hill  that  could  not  be  hid. 

Then  Jean  Gordon,  the  hermit  of  the  Garpel  glen,  bade 
me  an  adieu,  giving  me  an  old-fashioned  salutation  as  well, 
which  savoured  little  of  having  forgotten  all  that  she  had 
lightlied  to  me. 

212 


THE  GARDENER  OF  BALMAGHIE.  213 

"Tak'  tent  to  yoursel',"  she  said.  "Ye  are  a  good  lad 
and  none  so  feckless  as  ye  look.  There's  stuff  and  fushion 
in  ye,  an'  ye  micht  even  tak'  the  e'e  o'  woman  —  gin  ye 
wad  pad  your  legs." 

And  with  this  she  went  in,  leaving  me  in  a  quandary 
whether  to  throw  a  stone  at  her,  or  run  back  and  take  her 
round  the  neck. 

I  found  the  gardener  of  Balmaghie  standing  with  his 
back  towards  me.  He  walked  on  a  little  before  me  without 
speaking,  as  though  wishing  me  to  follow  him.  He  was,  to 
the  back  view,  dressed  but  ordinarily,  yet  with  some  of  the 
neatness  of  a  proper  gentleman's  servant. 

And  this  was  a  great  deal  in  a  country  where  for  common 
the  men  wear  little  that  is  handsome,  save  and  except  the 
Sabbath  cloak  —  which  if  it  do  not,  like  charity,  cover  a 
multitude  of  sins,  of  a  truth  hides  a  multitude  of  old  duddy 
clothes. 

At  the  foot  of  the  burn,  where  by  the  bridge  it  runs  over 
some  black  and  rugged  rocks,  the  gardener  stopped  and 
turned  round.  I  declare  I  never  gat  a  greater  or  more 
pleasant  surprise  in  my  life,  save  as  it  may  be,  once  —  of 
what  I  have  yet  to  tell. 

"  Wat,  dear  Wat !  "  I  cried,  and  ran  to  him.  We  clasped 
one  another's  hands,  and  then  we  stood  a  little  off,  gazing 
each  at  the  other.  I  had  not  known  that  I  was  so  fond  of 
him.  But  nothing  draws  the  heart  like  coming  through 
trials  together.  At  least,  so  it  is  with  men.  'Twixt  women 
and  men  so  many  things  draw  the  heart,  that  it  is  well-nigh 
impossible  to  separate  one  thing  from  the  other. 

"  How  came  Jean  Gordon  to  say  that  you  were  the  gar- 
dener at  Balmaghie?"  I  asked  of  him,  when  I  was  a  little 
satisfied  with  looking  at  him. 

"  Why,  because  I  am  the  gardener  at  Balmaghie  —  second 
gardener  !  "  answered  Wat,  smiling  in  a  sly  way  that  he  had 


214  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

when  he  meant  to  provoke  and  mystify  me.  Yet  a  way  that 
I  liked  not  ill,  for  he  never  used  it  save  when  he  had  within 
him  a  light  and  merry  heart. 

But  I  knew  by  this  time  how  to  counter  his  stroke,  which 
was  to 'hold  one's  peace,  as  if  one  cared  nothing  about  the 
matter.  For  in  this  Wat  was  just  like  a  woman,  or  a  fencer, 
whom  it  provokes  more  to  measure  a  thrust  and  avoid,  than 
a  hundred  times  to  parry  and  return. 

But  for  all  I  could  not  keep  the  anxiety  out  of  my  eyes  as 
we  walked  along. 

"You  do  not  want  to  hear,"  said  he,  provoking  me;  for 
because  of  Maisie  Lennox  and  my  mother,  he  knew  that  he 
had  the  better  of  me. 

"  But  I  do,  though  !  "     That  was  all  I  could  say. 

For  indeed  the  matter  was  a  mystery  to  me,  as  well  it 
might  be.  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar,  sometime  favourite 
of  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Wellwood,  now  gardener  to  a 
latitudinarian  and  cavalier  Galloway  laird,  that  had  been  a 
ferlie  even  on  a  day  of  miracles. 

Wat  continued  to  smile  and  smile. 

«  Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said.  Yet  for  a  while  did  not, 
but  only  walked  on  smiling. 

At  last  he  pursed  his  mouth  and  began  to  whistle.  It  was 
a  bar  or  two  of  the  air  "  Kate  Kennedy  is  my  darling." 

Now  at  that  time  I  own  that  I  was  not  bright  in  the 
uptake  about  such  things.  For  I  had  not  till  lately  con- 
cerned me  much  with  love  and  women's  favours,  but  it 
came  across  me  all  in  an  instant. 

"Oh!"  I  said. 

"Ah!"  said  Wat. 

And  we  looked  at  one  another  and  nodded — Wat  defi- 
antly. 

"  Kate  of  the  black  eyebrows  !  "  I  said  musingly.  "  They 
are  joined  over  her  brow,"  I  went  on,  "  and  her  ear  comes 


THE  GARDENER  OF  BALMAGHIE.       215 

straight  down  to  her  neck  without  any  rounded  lobe.  They 
are  two  well-considered  signs  !  " 

Wat  Gordon  stopped  suddenly,  and  cried  out  at  me. 

"See  here,  William  Gordon,  what  mean  you  by  that? 
What  if  her  eyebrows  meet  under  her  chin  and  her  ears 
hang  down  like  band  strings?  What  is  that  to  you? " 

"  Happily  nothing  !  "  said  I  —  for  I  was  patiently  paying 
him  out,  as  it  is  ever  easy  to  do  with  a  spit-fire  like  young 
Lochinvar. 

"Speak  plain,  Will,"  he  cried,  "or  by  the  Lord  I  will 
immediately  run  you  through  !  " 

"  With  a  spade,"  said  I,  mocking.  "  Mind,  Wat,  you 
are  a  laird's  second  gardener  now." 

But  when  I  perceived  that  he  was  really  angry,  I  has- 
tened to  appease  him. 

"Joined  eyebrows  and  lobeless  ear  have  been  held  by 
learned  folk  to  prefigure  some  temper,  Wat !  "  I  said. 

His  brow  cleared  on  an  instant. 

"  Pshaw !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I  like  a  lass  with  a  sparkle. 
No  mim  missie  for  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar,  but  a  lass 
that  keeps  you  in  doubt  till  the  last  moment,  whether  your 
best  wooing  will  speed  you  to  a  kiss  or  a  bodkin-prick  — 
that's  the  maid  for  me  ! " 

"For  me,  I  would  e'en  take  the  kiss,"  I  said  —  "take  it 
plain !  " 

"  Tush,  slow-coach  !  "  he  said,  "  your  Earlstoun  blood 
always  did  run  like  so  much  moss  water  !  " 

Now  I  had  borne  the  burden  of  the  day  on  the  moss 
of  Ayr,  and  felt  that  I  need  not  take  his  scornful  word. 

"  I  have  been  where  other  than  women's  bodkins  flashed 
—  aye,  ten  against  a  hundred,  and  this  was  the  only  brand 
that  wan  through,"  I  said,  putting  my  hand  on  my  side. 
11  There  was  small  time  for  kisses  then  !  Ye  may  kiss  your 
lass  gin  ye  like,  about  the  woods  of  Balmaghie.  As  for 


216  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

me,  I  prefer  to  ride  upon  Cameron's  flank,  on  a  day  when 
the  garments  are  rolled  in  blood." 

This  I  said  dourly,  for  my  gall  was  working  hot  within  me. 
So  far  from  our  first  friendship  had  the  clack  of  foolish 
tongues  brought  us.  'Deed,  we  were  but  silly  boys  that 
needed  skelping,  but  I  far  the  worst,  for  my  head  was  by 
nature  cooler  and  I  knew  better  all  the  while. 

"  And  so  perhaps  would  I  have  preferred  it,"  answered 
he  gently. 

"  Aye,"  said  he  again,  "  I  think  it  is  somewhat  late  in 
the  day  for  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar,  to  have  to  prove  his 
courage  upon  his  cousin  William  of  Earlstoun.  So  then, 
take  it  from  me  that  but  for  my  oath  sworn  to  the  King,  it 
had  been  more  pleasure  to  ride  with  you  in  the  charge 
at  Ayrsmoss,  than  to  be  bridegroom  to  any  maid  soever 
in  the  world  !  " 

And  at  the  name  of  the  King,  he  lifted  his  worn  old 
countryman's  bonnet  as  nobly  and  loyally  as  though  it  had 
been  the  plumed  hat,  whose  feather  had  been  so  proudly 
set  that  night  when  he  defied  heaven  and  hell  to  keep  him 
from  his  tryst  beyond  the  Netherbow. 

At  the  word  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  him. 

"  Forgive  me,  Wat,"  I  said,  and  would  have  taken  his 
arm,  but  he  moved  it  a  little  away  for  a  moment. 

"  Pray  remember,"  he  said  grandly,  "  that  though  I  am  a 
jerkined  man  and  handle  the  mattock  in  another  man's 
kail  yaird,  —  aye,  though  I  be  put  to  the  horn  and  con- 
demned unheard  as  a  traitor,  I  am  true  King's  man.  Vive 
le  Roi ! " 

"Well,"  replied  I,  "so  be  it,  and  much  good  may  it  do 
you.  At  any  rate,  there  is  no  need  to  make  such  a  work 
about  it.  After  all,  gin  ye  be  at  the  horn,  it's  Guid's  truth 
that  ye  gied  Duke  Wellwood's  lads  some  most  unmerciful 
jags  aneath  the  ribs  !  " 


THE  GARDENER  OF  BALMAGHIE.  217 

While  thus  we  snarled  and  fought  between  ourselves,  the 
very  strife  of  our  tongues  made  the  legs  go  faster,  and  we 
drew  southward  between  the  two  lochs,  Ken  and  Grenoch, 
crossing  over  the  Black  Water  and  leaving  the  Duchrae 
behind.  And  this  made  me  very  wae,  to  mind  the  days 
that  we  had  there,  with  that  brave  company  which  should 
meet  no  more  on  the  earth  together. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  TESTING  OF  THE  TYKE. 

AT  the  head  of  the  high  natural  wood  which  fringes  about 
all  the  mansion  house  of  Balmaghie,  we  held  down  to  the 
right  through  the  copses,  till  we  came  to  the  green  policies 
that  ring  in  the  great  house  of  McGhies.  As  we  went  link- 
ing down  this  green  pleasaunce,  there  met  us  one  who  came 
towards  us  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  stooping  a  little 
from  the  shoulders  down.  He  had  on  him  a  rich  dress  of 
dark  stuff  a  good  deal  worn,  being  that  of  a  fashion  one  or  two 
removes  from  the  present.  But  this  rather,  as  it  seemed, 
from  habit  and  preference  than  from  need  —  like  one  that 
deigns  not  to  go  too  fine. 

"Where  away,  Heather  Jock?"  he  cried  as  we  made 
to  go  by,  and  turned  toward  us. 

"Whom  have  we  here?  "he  asked,  so  soon  as  he  saw 
me. 

"  A  cousin  o*  mine  from  the  hill  country,  laird,"  said  Wat, 
with  the  gruff  courtesy  of  the  gardener. 

"  Hoot,  hoot  —  another  !  This  will  never  do.  Has  he 
taken  the  Test?  "  said  the  laird. 

"  I  doubt  he  cannot  read  it  even,"  said  Wat,  standing 
sheepishly  before  him. 

"That  is  all  the  better,"  said  the  tall  grey  man,  shaking 
his  head  gently  and  a  little  reproachfully.  "  It  is  easier 
gotten  over  that  way." 

"  Have  not  you  read  it,  sir?"  asked  Wat,  glancing  up  at 
him  curiously  as  he  stood  and  swung  his  cane. 

218 


THE  TESTING  OF  THE  TYKE.  219 

"Faith  no,"  he  answered  quickly;  "for  if  I  had  read  it, 
Heather  Jock,  I  might  never  have  taken  it.  I  could  not 
run  the  risks." 

"My  friend  will  e'en  take  the  Test  the  way  that  the 
Heriot's  hospital  dog  took  it,"  said  Wat,  again  smiling,  "with 
a  little  butter  and  liberty  to  spit  it  out." 

"  How  now,  Heather  Jock,  thou  art  a  great  fellow ! 
Where  didst  thou  get  all  the  stories  of  the  city?  The 
whaups  do  not  tell  them  about  the  Glenkens." 

"  Why,  an  it  please  your  honour,  I  was  half  a  year  in  the 
town  with  the  Lady  Gordon,  and  gat  the  chapman's  fly 
sheets  that  were  hawked  about  the  causeways,"  answered 
Wat  readily  enough,  making  him  an  awkward  bow. 

"  Tell  me  the  story,  rascal,"  said  the  tall  man,  whom  I 
now  knew  for  Roger  McGhie  of  Balmaghie.  "I  love  a 
story,  so  that  it  be  not  too  often  told." 

Now  I  wondered  to  hear  Wat  Gordon  of  Lochinvar  take 
the  word  {t  rascal "  so  meekly,  standing  there  on  the  road. 
It  was,  indeed,  very  far  from  being  his  wont. 

However,  he  began  obediently  enough  to  tell  the  story 
which  Roger  McGhie  asked  of  him. 

For  a  Kate  of  the  Black  Eyebrows  in  the  plot  makes 
many  a  mighty  difference  to  the  delicateness  of  a  man's 
stomach. 

"The  story  was  only  a  bairn's  ploy  that  I  heard  tell  of, 
when  I  was  in  town  with  my  lady,"  he  said,  "nothing  worth 
your  honour's  attention,  yet  will  I  tell  it  from  the  printed 
sheet  which  for  a  bodle  I  bought." 

"  Let  me  be  the  judge  of  that,"  said  the  other. 

"Well  then,  laird,  there  was  in  the  hospital  of  George 
Heriot,  late  jeweller  to  the  King,  a  wheen  loon  scholar  lads 
who  had  an  ill-will  at  a  mastiff  tyke,  that  lived  in  a  barrel  in 
the  yard  and  keeped  the  outermost  gate.  They  suspected 
this  dog  of  treason  against  the  person  of  his  Majesty,  and 


220  THE  MEN   OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

especially  of  treasonable  opinions  as  to  the  succession  of  the 
Duke  of  York.  And,  indeed,  they  had  some  ground  for 
their  suspicion,  for  the  mastiff  growled  one  day  at  the  King's 
High  Commissioner  when  he  passed  that  way,  and  even  bit  a 
piece  out  of  the  calf  of  one  of  the  Duke  of  York's  servitors 
that  wore  his  Highness'  livery,  at  the  time  when  his  Grace 
was  an  indweller  in  Holyrood  House." 

The  eye  of  the  tall  grave  man  changed.  A  look  of 
humorous  severity  came  into  it. 

"  Be  cautious  how  you  speak  of  dignities ! "  he  said  to 
Wat. 

"Well,"  said  Wat,  "at  any  rate,  this  evil-minded  tyke 
held  an  office  of  trust,  patently  within  the  meaning  of  the 
act,  and  these  loon  lads  of  Heriot's  ordained  him  duly  to 
take  the  Test,  or  be  turned  out  of  his  place  of  dignity  and 
profit. 

"So  they  formed  a  Summary  Court,  and  the  tyke  was 
called  and  interrogated  in  due  form.  The  silly  cur  answered 
all  their  questions  with  silence,  which  was  held  as  a  sign  of 
a  guilty  conscience.  And  this  would  have  been  registered 
as  a  direct  refusal,  but  that  one  of  the  loons,  taking  it  upon 
him  to  be  the  tyke's  advocate,  argued  that  silence  commonly 
gave  consent,  and  that  the  Test  had  not  been  presented  to 
his  client  in  the  form  most  plausible  and  agreeable  to  his 
tender  stomach. 

"  The  debate  lasted  long,  but  at  last  it  was  agreed  that 
a  printed  copy  of  the  Test  should  be  made  into  as  little 
bulk  as  possible,  smoothed  with  butter,  tallow,  or  whatever 
should  be  most  tempting  to  his  doggish  appetite.  This 
being  done,  Tyke  readily  took  it,  and  made  a  shift  by 
rowing  it  up  and  down  his  mouth,  to  separate  what  was 
pleasant  to  his  palate.  When  all  seemed  over  and  the  dog 
appearingly  well  tested,  the  loons  saw  somewhat,  as  it  were 
one  piece  after  another,  drop  from  the  side  of  his  mouth. 


THE  TESTING  OF  THE  TYKE.  221 

Whereupon  it  was  argued,  as  in  the  case  of  my  Lord  Argyle, 
that  this  was  much  worse  than  a  refusal,  because  it  was  a 
separating  of  that  which  was  pleasant  from  what  was  irksome. 
And  that  this  therefore,  rightly  interpreted,  was  no  less  than 
High  Treason. 

"  But  the  tyke's  advocate  urged  that  his  enemies  had  had 
the  rowing  up  of  the  paper,  and  very  likely  they  had  put 
some  crooked  pin  or  other  foreign  object,  unpleasant  to  a 
honest  tyke's  palate,  within.  So  he  asked  for  a  fair  trial 
before  his  peers  for  his  client. 

"  Then  the  Court  being  constitute  and  the  assize  set, 
there  fell  out  a  great  debate  concerning  this  tyke  dog. 
Some  said  that  his  chaming  and  chirking  of  the  paper  was 
very  ill-done  of  him,  that  he  was  over  malapert  and  took  too 
much  upon  him.  For  his  office  being  a  lowly  one,  it  was 
no  business  of  his  to  do  other  than  bolt  the  Test  at  once. 

"  But  his  advocate  urged  that  he  had  done  his  best,  and 
that  if  one  part  of  the  oath  fell  to  hindering  the  other  and 
fighting  in  his  hass,  it  was  not  his  fault,  but  the  fault  of  them 
that  framed  such-like.  Also,  that  if  it  had  not  hindered 
itself  in  going  down,  he  would  have  taken  it  gladly  and  will- 
ingly, as  he  had  taken  down  many  other  untoothsome  mor- 
sels before,  to  the  certain  knowledge  of  the  Court  —  such  as 
dead  cats,  old  hosen  and  shoes,  and  a  bit  of  the  leg  of  one 
of  the  masters  in  the  hospital,  who  was  known  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly unsavoury  in  his  person. 

"  But  all  this  did  not  save  the  poor  tyke,  for  his  action  in 
mauling  and  beslavering  his  Majesty's  printing  and  paper 
was  held  to  be,  at  least,  Interpretive  Treason.  And  so  he 
was  ordered  to  close  prison  till  such  a  time  as  the  Court 
should  call  him  forth  to  be  hanged  like  a  dog.  Which  was 
pronounced  for  doom." 

Roger  McGhie  laughed  at  the  tale's  end  with  a  gentle, 
inward  laughter,  and  tapped  Wat  with  his  cane. 


222  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  Thou  art  indeed  a  merry  wag,  and  speak  over  well  for  a 
gardener,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  know  not  if  John  Graham  would 
not  put  a  charge  of  lead  into  thee,  if  he  heard  thy  way  of 
talking.  But  go  thy  ways.  Tell  me  quickly  what  befel  the 
poor  tyke." 

"None  so  evil  was  his  fate,"  said  Wat,  "for  in  the  midst 
of  the  great  debate  that  the  surprising  verdict  raised,  the 
tyke  drew  on  a  fox's  skin,  laid  hold  of  the  tail  of  another 
tyke,  and  so  passed  unobserved  out  of  the  prison.  At  which 
many  were  glad.  For,  said  they,  he  was  a  good  tyke  that 
would  not  sup  kail  with  the  Pope  nor  yet  the  deil,  and  so 
had  no  need  of  his  long  spoon.  And  others  said  that  it  were 
a  pity  to  hang  so  logical  a  tyke,  for  that  he  was  surely  no 
Aberdeen  man,  ever  ready  to  cant  and  recant  again.' 

Roger  McGhie  laughed  aloud  and  knocked  his  cane  on 
the  ground,  for  right  well  he  understood  the  meaning  of 
all  these  things,  being  versed  in  parties  and  politics,  which 
I  never  was. 

"  It  is  mighty  merry  wit,"  he  said,  "  and  these  colleginers 
are  blythesome  blades.  I  wonder  what  John  Graham  will 
say  to  this.  But  go  to  the  bothies  of  the  bachelor  foresters, 
and  get  that  which  may  comfort  the  inner  parts  of  your 
cousin  from  the  hills — who,  from  the  hang  of  his  head, 
seems  not  so  ready  of  tongue  as  thou." 

For,  indeed,  I  had  been  most  discreetly  silent. 

So  the  tall,  grey-headed  gentleman  went  away  from  us, 
tapping  gently  with  his  fine  cane  on  the  ground,  and  often 
stopping  to  look  curiously  at  some  knot  on  a  tree  or  some 
chance  puddock  or  grasshopper  on  the  roadside. 

Then  Wat  told  me  that  because  of  his  quaint  wit  and 
great  loyalty,  Roger  McGhie  of  Balmaghie  was  in  high 
favour  with  the  ruling  party,  and  that  none  on  his  estates 
were  ever  molested.  Also  that  Claverhouse  frequented  the 
house  greatly,  often  riding  from  Dumfries  for  a  single  night 


THE  TESTING  OF  THE  TYKE.  223 

only  to  have  the  pleasure  of  his  society.  He  never  quartered 
his  men  near  by  the  house  of  Balmaghie,  but  rode  over  alone 
or  with  but  one  attendant  in  the  forenights  —  perhaps  to  get 
away  from  roystering  Lidderdale  of  the  Isle,  red  roaring 
Baldoon,  drinking  Winram,  and  the  rest  of  the  boon  com- 
panions. 

"  The  laird  of  Claverhouse  will  come  hither,"  said  Wat, 
"  with  a  proud  set  face,  stern  and  dark  as  Lucifer's,  in  the 
evening.  And  in  the  morning  ride  away  with  so  fresh  a 
countenance  and  so  pleasing  an  expression  that  one  might 
think  him  a  spirit  unfallen.  For,  as  he  says,  Roger  McGhie 
does  his  heart  good  like  medicine." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

KATE   OF   THE   DARK   BROWS. 

BETIMES  we  came  to  a  little  row  of  white  cottages  deep  in 
the  wood,  with  only  a  green  clearing  at  the  door,  and  the 
trees  swaying  broad  branches  over  the  roof. 

Here  we  washed  ourselves,  and  Wat  set  to  shaving  me  and 
cutting  my  hair  close,  in  order  that  if  necessary  I  might  wear 
a  wig.  Then  we  went  into  the  gardens,  where  we  found 
the  chief  gardener  of  Balmaghie,  whose  name  was  Samuel 
Irving. 

Samuel  was  a  grave  man  with  a  very  long  upper  lip,  which 
gave  him  a  sour  and  discontented  expression,  but  secretly  he 
was  a  good  man  and  a  great  favourer  of  the  hill-folk.  Also 
he  was  very  upright  and  well-doing  in  the  matters  of  seeds 
and  fruits  and  perquisites,  and  greatly  in  favour  with  his 
master,  Mr.  Roger  McGhie. 

So  we  set  out  much  refreshed,  and  were  going  by  a  path 
through  the  woods,  when  suddenly  who  should  come  upon 
us  at  a  turn  but  Kate  McGhie.  Wat  ran  to  her  to  take  her 
hands,  but  she  gave  him  the  go-by  with  the  single  frugal 
favour  of  a  saucy  glance.  "  Strangers  first !  "  she  said,  and 
so  came  forward  and  greeted  me. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  Balmaghie,  William  Gordon,"  she 
said.  "  I  would  you  came  as  guest,  and  not  as  servitor ;  but 
some  day  I  know  you  shall  enter  by  the  front  door." 

She  glanced  round  with  a  questioning  air.  Wat  was  stand- 
ing half  turned  away,  very  haughty  in  his  demeanour. 

224 


KATE  OF  THE  DARK  BROWS.  225 

Kate  McGhie  looked  towards  him.  She  was  in  truth  a 
comely  maid — for  one  that  is  black  of  favour. 

"  Now  you  may  com«,"  she  said. 

He  seemed  as  if  he  would  refuse  and  turn  away.  But 
she  looked  fixedly  at  him,  defying  him  with  her  eyes  to  do 
it,  and  after  a  moment's  battle  of  regards  he  came  slowly 
towards  us. 

"  Come  nearer  ! "  she  commanded  imperiously. 

He  came  up  with  his  eyes  kindling.  I  think  that  no  less 
than  kissing  was  in  his  mind,  and  that  for  a  moment  he 
thought  that  she  might  permit  it. 

But  suddenly  she  drew  herself  proudly  away,  and  her  look 
was  disdainful  and  no  doubt  hard  to  be  borne. 

"Are  these  fit  manners  from  a  servant?"  she  said. 
"They  that  eat  the  meat  and  sit  below  the  salt,  must 
keep  the  distance." 

Wat's  countenance  fell  in  a  moment.  I  never  saw  one 
with  so  many  ups  and  down  in  such  short  space.  The  allures 
and  whimsies  of  this  young  she-slip  made  him  alternately 
sulk  and  brighten  like  an  April  day. 

"  Kate ! "  he  began  to  say,  in  the  uncertain  tone  of  a 
petitioner. 

"  Mistress  Katerine  McGhie,  if  you  please  !  "  said  she, 
dropping  him  a  courtly  courtesy. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  quite?  "  Wat  said. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "it  is  you  who  have  forgotten.  You 
were  not  the  gardener  then.  I  do  not  allow  gardeners  to 
kiss  me  —  unless  my  hand  on  Sundays  when  their  faces  are 
more  than  ordinarily  clean.  Would  you  like  to  have  that, 
Heather  Jock?" 

And  she  held  out  the  back  of  her  hand. 

The  silly  fellow  coloured  to  his  brow,  and  was  for  turning 
away  with  his  head  very  much  in  the  air. 

But  she  ran  after  him,  and  took  him  by  the  hand. 
Q 


226  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then  he  would  have  caught  her  about  with  his  arms,  but 
she  escaped  out  of  them  lightly  as  a  bird. 

"  Na,  na,  Lochinvar,"  she  cried  merrily,  in  the  common 
speech.  "That  is  as  muckle  as  is  good  for  you"  —  she 
looked  at  him  with  the  light  of  attraction  in  her  eyes  — 
"  afore  folk,"  she  added,  with  a  glance  at  him  that  I  could 
not  fathom. 

Nevertheless,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  all  that  was  between 
them.  So  with  no  more  said,  Kate  fled  fleet-foot  down  the 
path  towards  the  great  house,  which  we  could  see  standing 
grey  and  massive  at  the  end  of  the  avenue  of  beeches. 

"  There's  a  lass  by  yon  burn-side  that  will  do  as  muckle 
for  you ;  but  dinna  bide  to  speer  her  leave  ! "  she  cried  to 
me  over  her  shoulder,  a  word  which  it  was  hard  to  under- 
stand. 

I  asked  Wat,  who  stood  staring  after  her  in  a  kind  of 
wrapt  adoration,  what  she  could  mean. 

He  gazed  at  me,  as  if  he  did  not  see  what  kind  of  animal 
was  making  the  noise  like  talking.  I  am  sure  that  for  the 
time  he  knew  me  not  from  John  Knox. 

"What  did  she  mean? "  I  asked  him. 

"Mean!"  said  he,  "mean "  speaking  vaguely  as 

one  in  a  swither. 

"  You  are  heady  and  moidered  with  not  getting  a  kiss 
from  a  lass,"  said  I,  with,  I  grant,  some  little  spite. 

"Did  she  ever  kiss  you?"  cried  he,  looking  truculently 
at  me. 

"  Nay  ! "  said  I  bluntly,  for  indeed  the  thing  was  not  in 
my  thought. 

"  Then  you  ken  naught  about  it.  You  had  better  hold 
your  wheesht ! " 

He  stood  so  long  thinking,  sometimes  giving  his  thigh  a 
little  slap,  like  one  that  has  suddenly  remembered  some- 
thing pleasant  which  he  had  forgotten,  that  I  was  near 


KATE  OF  THE  DARK  BROWS.  227 

coming  away  in  disgust  and  leaving  the  fool,  when  I  re- 
membered that  I  knew  not  where  to  go. 

In  a  while  he  came  to  himself  somewhat,  and  I  told  him 
what  Kate  McGhie  had  said  to  me  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Did  Kate  say  that  ?  "  he  cried.  "  She  could  surely  not 
have  said  all  that  and  I  not  hear  her." 

"  Out,  you  fool,"  I  said,  for  so  of  custom  I  spoke  to  him, 
being  my  cousin  and  playmate.  "  You  had  other  matter  to 
think  of.  Say  it  she  did." 

He  repeated  the  words  which  I  told  him,  and  I  declare 
even  the  sound  of  them  seemed  to  be  in  danger  of  throw- 
ing him  into  another  rhapsody. 

But  at  last  he  said,  suddenly,  "  Oh,  I  ken  what  she  means 

"  And  he  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  suppose  we  had 

better  go  down  to  the  water-side.  She  will  not  come  out 
again,  if  we  wait  all  night."  And  he  went  some  way  along 
the  avenue  and  looked  long  and  hard  at  one  heavy-browed 
window  of  the  old  house  which  seemed  to  be  winking  at  us. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  how  love  affects  different  people. 
You  never  can  tell  beforehand  how  it  will  be.  I  could  not 
have  believed  that  the  presence  of  a  forward  lass  with  black 
eyebrows  could  have  made  a  moon-struck  fool  of  Wildcat 
Wat  of  Lochinvar. 

He  still  stood  and  looked  at  the  window  till  my  patience 
was  ended. 

"Come  on,  man,"  I  cried.  "I  declare  you  are  not 
Heather  Jock,  as  she  called  you,  but  Heather  Jackass  ! " 

At  another  time  he  would  have  knocked  my  head  off,  but 
now  my  jesting  affected  him  no  more  than  a  sermon.  And 
this  I  took  to  be  the  worst  sign  of  all. 

"Well,  come  on  then,"  he  said.  "You  are  surely  in  an 
accursed  sweat  of  haste  to-night !  " 

And  we  took  our  way  down  to  the  water-side,  having 
wasted  more  than  an  hour.  We  had  not  advanced  far 


228  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

down  the  pillared  avenue  of  the  beech  trees,  when  sud- 
denly we  came  in  sight  of  Maisie  Lennox.  She  was  com- 
ing slowly  towards  us  along  one  of  the  forest  roads.  At  the 
same  time  I  saw  my  mother,  walking  away  from  me  down 
a  path  which  led  along  the  side  of  the  Dee  water.  She  had 
her  back  to  me,  and  was  going  slowly  with  her  head  down. 
To  my  shame  I  ran  to  meet  Maisie  Lennox.  But  first  ere 
I  reached  her  she  said  quietly  to  me,  "  Have  you  not  seen 
your  mother?" 

"Aye,"  answered  I.  "She  has  gonejdown  the  road  to 
the  water-side." 

"Then  let  no  greeting  come  before  your  mother's,"  she 
said,  looking  very  ill-pleased  at  me  as  I  ran  forward  to  take 
her  hand. 

So  with  a  flea  in  my  ear  I  turned  me  about  and  went  off, 
somewhat  shamed  as  you  may  believe,  to  find  my  mother. 
When  I  got  back  to  the  path  on  which  I  had  seen  her,  I 
left  Wat  far  behind  and  ran  after  my  mother,  calling  loudly 
to  her. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice  she  turned  and  held  up  her 
hands. 

"Willie,  boy!"  she  cried. 

And  in  a  moment  she  had  me  in  her  arms,  crooning  over 
me  and  making  much  of  me.  She  told  me  also,  when  she 
had  time  to  look  well  at  me,  that  I  was  much  better  in 
health  than  when  I  had  lain  hi  the  well-house  of  Earls- 
toun. 

"  And  you  came  first  to  see  your  old  mother.  That  was 
like  my  ain  Willie  ! "  she  said,  a  word  which  made  me 
ashamed.  So  I  had  no  answer  to  make,  though  neverthe- 
less I  took  the  credit  of  the  action  as  much  by  silence  as  by 
speech. 

Then  Maisie  Lennox  came  through  the  wood,  and  demean- 
ing herself  right  soberly,  she  held  out  her  hand. 


KATE   OF  THE  DARK  BROWS.  229 

"  Did  you  not  see  William  before  ?  "  asked  my  mother, 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  us. 

"Only  at  a  distance,  on  his  way  to  you,"  said  Maisie, 
speaking  in  her  demure  way. 

It  was  in  the  little  holding  of  Boatcroft  by  the  side  of  the 
Dee,  and  among  the  water  meadows  which  gird  the  broad 
stream,  that  we  found  my  mother,  Maisie  Lennox,  and  little 
Margaret  Wilson  snugly  settled.  Their  position  here  was 
not  one  to  be  despised.  They  were  safe  for  the  time  being 
at  least,  upon  the  property  of  Roger  McGhie.  Every  day 
the  old  man  passed  their  loaning-end.  And  though  he  knew 
that  by  rights  only  a  herd  should  live  at  the  Boatcroft,  yet 
he  made  no  complaint  nor  asked  any  question  for  conscience' 
sake,  when  he  saw  my  mother  with  Maisie  Lennox  at  her 
elbow,  or  little  Margaret  of  Glen  Vernock  moving  about  the 
little  steading. 

In  the  evening  it  fell  to  me  to  make  my  first  endeavours 
at  waiting  at  table,  for  though  women  were  safe  enough 
anywhere  on  the  estate,  Balmaghie  was  not  judged  to  be 
secure  for  me  except  within  the  house  itself. 

So  my  mother  gave  me  a  great  many  cautions  about  how 
I  should  demean  myself,  and  how  to  be  silent  and  mannerly 
when  I  handed  the  dishes. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE   BLACK  HORSE   COMES  TO   BALMAGHIE. 

As  Wat  and  I  went  towards  the  great  house  in  the  early 
gloaming,  we  became  aware  of  a  single  horseman  riding 
toward  us  and  gaining  on  us  from  behind.  At  the  first 
sound  of  the  trampling  of  his  horse,  Wat  dived  at  once  over 
the  turf  dyke  and  vanished. 

"  Bide  you  ! "  he  said.     "  He'll  no  ken  you  !  " 

A  slender-like  figure  in  a  grey  cavalry  cloak  and  a  plain 
hat  without  a  feather,  came,  slowly  riding  alongside  of  me,  in 
an  attitude  of  the  deepest  thought. 

I  knew  at  a  glance  that  it  was  John  Graham  of  Claverhouse, 
whom  all  the  land  of  the  South  knew  as  "  the  Persecutor." 

"Are  you  one  of  Balmaghie's  servants?"  he  asked. 

I  took  off  my  bonnet,  showing  as  I  did  so  my  shaven  poll, 
and  answered  him  that  I  was. 

No  other  word  he  uttered,  though  he  eyed  me  pretty 
closely  and  uncomfortably,  as  if  he  had  a  shrewd  thought 
that  he  had  seen  me  before  elsewhere.  But  the  shaven  head 
and  the  absence  of  hair  on  my  face  were  a  complete  disguise. 

For,  indeed,  though  Maisie  Lennox  made  little  of  it,  the 
fact  was  that  I  had  at  the  time  quite  a  strong  crop  of  hair 
upon  both  my  chin  and  upper  lip. 

Claverhouse  waved  me  behind  him  with  the  graceful  and 
haughty  gesture,  which  they  say  he  constantly  used  even  to 
the  Secretary  in  Council,  when  he  was  hot  with  him  in  the 
matter  of  the  house  and  lands  of  Dudhobe. 

Meekly  enough  I  trudged  behind  the  great  commander  of 
230 


THE  BLACK   HORSE.  231 

horse,  and  looked  with  much  curiosity  and  some  awe  both 
upon  him  and  on  his  famous  steed  "  Boscobel,"  which  was 
supposed  by  the  more  ignorant  of  the  peasantry  to  be  the 
foul  fiend  in  his  proper  person. 

So  in  this  manner  we  came  to  the  house.  The  lights  were 
just  beginning  to  shine,  for  Alisoun  Begbie,  the  maid  of  the 
table,  was  just  arranging  the  candles.  At  the  doorway  the 
master  of  the  house  met  his  guest,  having  been  drawn  from 
his  library  by  the  feet  of  the  charger  clattering  upon  the 
pavement  of  the  yard. 

"Ah,  John,"  he  said,  "this  is  right  gracious  of  you,  in  the 
midst  of  your  fighting  and  riding,  to  journey  over  to  cheer 
an  old  hulk  like  me  !" 

And  he  reached  him  a  hand  to  the  saddle,  which  Claver- 
house  took  without  a  word.  But  I  saw  a  look  of  liking, 
which  was  almost  tender,  in  the  war-captain's  eyes  as  I 
passed  round  by  the  further  door  into  the  kitchen. 

Here  I  was  roughly  handled  by  the  cook — who,  of  course, 
had  not  been  informed  of  my  personality,  and  who  exercised 
upon  me  both  the  length  of  her  tongue  and  the  very  consid- 
erable agility  thereof. 

But  Alisoun  Begbie,  who  was,  as  I  say,  principal  waiting- 
maid,  rescued  me  and  in  pity  took  me  under  her  protection ; 
though  with  no  suspicion  of  my  quality,  but  only  from  a 
maidish  and  natural  liking  for  a  young  and  unmarried  man. 
She  offered  very  kindly  to  show  me  all  my  duties,  and, 
indeed,  I  had  been  in  a  sorry  pass  that  night  without  her 
help. 

So  when  it  came  to  the  hour  of  supper,  it  was  with  some 
show  of  grace  that  I  was  enabled  to  wait  at  table,  and  take 
my  part  in  the  management  of  the  dishes  thereupon.  Alisoun 
kept  me  mostly  in  the  back  of  her  serving  pantry,  and  gave 
me  only  the  dishes  which  were  easy  to  be  served,  looking 
kindly  on  me  with  her  eyes  all  the  while  and  shyly  touching 


232  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

my  hand  when  occasion  served,  which  I  thought  it  not  poli- 
tic to  refuse.  For  all  this  I  was  mightily  thankful,  because 
I  had  very  small  desire  to  draw  upon  me  the  cold  blue  eyes 
of  John  Graham — to  whom,  in  spite  of  my  crop  head  and 
serving-man's  attire,  there  might  arrive  a  memory  of  the  side 
of  green  Garryhorn  and  the  interrupted  fight  which  Wat  of 
Lochinvar,  my  cousin,  had  fought  for  my  sake  with  Cornet 
Peter  Inglis. 

The  two  gentlemen  sat  and  supped  their  kail,  in  which  a 
pullet  had  been  boiled,  with  quite  remarkable  relish.  But 
it  was  not  till  the  wine  had  been  uncorked  and  set  at  their 
elbows,  that  they  began  to  have  much  converse. 

Then  they  sat  and  gossiped  together  very  pleasantly,  like 
men  that  are  easing  their  hearts  and  loosening  their  belts 
over  trencher  and  stoup,  after  a  hard  day's  darg. 

It  was  John  Graham  who  spoke  first. 

"  Have  you  heard,"  he  said,  "  the  excellent  new  jest  con- 
cerning Anne  Keith,  what  she  did  with  these  vaguing  blasties 
up  at  Methven,  when  the  laird  was  absent  in  London?" 

"  Nay,"  replied  Roger  McGhie,  "  that  have  I  not.  I  am 
not  in  the  way  at  Balmaghie  to  hear  other  misdeeds  than 
those  of  John  Graham  and  his  horse  Boscobel,  that  is  now 
filling  his  kyte  in  my  stable,  as  his  master  is  eke  doing  in 
hall." 

"Well,"  said  Claverhouse,  "we  shall  have  to  give  Anne 
the  justiciar  power  and  send  her  lord  to  the  spence  and  the 
store  chamber.  She  should  have  the  jack  and  the  riding 
breeks,  and  he  the  keys  of  the  small  ale  casks.  So  it  were 
better  for  his  Majesty's  service." 

"But  I  thought  him  a  good  loyal  man,"  said  Roger 
McGhie. 

"One  that  goes  as  easy  as  an  old  shoe  —  like  yourself, 
Roger.  Not  so  my  lady.  Heard  ye  what  our  Anne  did? 
The  conventiclers  came  to  set  up  a  preaching  in  a  tent  on 


THE  BLACK   HORSE.  233 

the  laird's  ground,  and  they  told  it  to  Anne.  Whereupon 
she  rose,  donned  her  lord's  buff  coat  and  slung  his  basket 
hilt  at  her  pretty  side.  And  so  to  the  woodside  rode  she. 
There  were  with  her  none  but  Methven's  young  brother,  a 
lad  like  a  fathom  of  pump  water.  Yet  with  Anne  Keith  to 
captain  him,  he  e'en  drew  sword  and  bent  pistol  like  a  brave 
one.  I  had  not  thought  that  there  was  so  much  good  stuff 
in  David." 

Roger  McGhie  sipped  at  his  wine  and  nodded,  drawing 
up  one  eyebrow  and  down  the  other,  as  his  habit  was  when 
he  was  amused  —  which  indeed  was  not  seldom,  for  he  was 
merry  within  him  much  more  often  than  he  told  any. 

"Then  who  but  Anne  was  the  pretty  fighter,"  Clavers 
went  on  lightly,  "  with  a  horseman's  piece  on  her  left  arm, 
and  a  drawn  tuck  in  her  right  hand?  Also  was  she  not  the 
fine  general?  For  she  kept  the  enemy's  forces  sindry, 
marching  her  servants  to  and  fro,  all  armed  to  the  teeth  — 
to  and  fro  all  day  between  them,  and  threatening  the  tent  in 
which  was  the  preacher  to  the  rabble.  She  cried  to  them 
that  if  they  did  not  leave  the  parish  of  Methven  speedily,  it 
would  be  a  bloody  day  for  them.  And  that  if  they  did  not 
come  to  the  kirk  decently  and  hear  the  curate,  she  would 
ware  her  life  upon  teaching  them  how  to  worship  God  prop- 
erly, for  that  they  were  an  ignorant,  wicked  pack  !  A  pirli- 
cue  *  which  pleased  them  but  little,  so  that  some  rode  off 
that  they  might  not  be  known,  and  some  dourly  remained, 
but  were  impotent  for  evil. 

"  I  never  knew  that  Anne  Keith  was  such  a  spirity  lass. 
I  would  all  such  lasses  were  as  sound  in  the  faith  as  she." 

This  was  the  word  of  Roger  McGhie,  uttered  like  a  medi- 
tation. I  felt  sure  he  thought  of  his  daughter  Kate. 

"  Then,"  continued  John  Graham,  "  after  that,  Anne  took 
her  warlike  folk  to  the  kirk.  And  lo  !  the  poor  curate  was 

*  In  this  case,  the  application  of  the  discourse. 


234  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

so  wandered  and  feared,  that  he  could  make  no  suitable 
discourse  that  day,  but  only  stood  and  bleated  like  a  calf, 
till  the  Lady  Anne  said  to  him,  *  Sir,  if  you  can  neither  fight 
nor  preach,  ye  had  better  go  back  to  the  Hielands  and  herd 
kye,  for  by  the  Lord,  I,  Anne  Keith,  can  fight  and  preach 
too ! ' " 

"  As  they  do  say  the  Laird  of  Methven  right  well  know- 
eth,"  said  Roger  McGhie,  in  the  very  dry  and  covert  way 
in  which  he  said  many  things. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Clavers,  and  smiled  a  little  as  if  he  also  had 
his  own  thoughts.  But  he  went  on. 

"  So  on  the  very  next  day  Anne  held  a  court  hi  the  hall, 
and  all  the  old  canting  wives  of  the  parish  were  there.  She 
set  the  Test  to  all  their  throats,  and  caused  them  to  forswear 
conventicling  at  the  peril  of  their  lives  —  all  but  one  old 
beldame  that  would  in  no  wise  give  way,  or  be  answerable 
for  her  children,  who  were  well  kenned  and  notour  rebels. 

"  Then  Anne  took  from  the  hag  her  apron,  that  was  a  fine 
braw  one  with  pockets,  and  said  to  her,  '  This  I  shall  retain 
till  you  have  paid  your  son's  fines.  If  ye  cannot  keep  your 
other  brats  out  of  the  dirt,  at  least  I  shall  keep  this  one 
clean  for  you.' " 

"  Ha,  very  well  said,  Anne  !  "  cried  Roger  McGhie,  clap- 
ping the  table.  For  "  brat "  is  but  the  Scots  word  for  apron, 
and  such  a  brisk  conceity  saying  was  like  that  very  spirited 
lady,  Anne  Keith. 

"But  with  yourself,  how  goes  it?"  asked  the  Laird  of 
Balmaghie. 

Claverhouse  turned  a  silver  spoon  over  and  over,  and 
looked  at  the  polish  upon  it  thoughtfully. 

"Ill,  ill,  I  fear.  I  ride  night  and  day  through  all  the 
country  of  Galloway,  and  it  is  like  so  much  pudding  in  mud. 
That  which  you  clear  out  before  you,  closes  up  behind. 
And  at  headquarters  there  is  the  Duke  Hamilton,  who 


THE  BLACK  HORSE.  235 

desires  no  better  than  to  load  me  to  the  chancellor.  I  have 
many  enemies." 

"But  surely  also  many  friends,"  said  Balmaghie. 

"  Not  many  so  true  as  thou  art,  Roger,"  said  Claverhouse, 
stretching  out  a  white  hand  across  the  table,  which  his  friend 
took  for  a  moment. 

"  And  I  am  plagued  on  the  one  side  by  the  Council  to 
make  the  folk  keep  to  the  kirk,  and  on  the  other  sore  vexed 
with  weary-winded  preachers  like  Andrew  Symson  over  on 
Creeside,  who  this  very  day  writes  me  to  say  that  ever  since 
muckle  Davie  Dunbar  of  Baldoon  hath  broken  his  neck,  he 
gets  no  congregation  at  all.  And  be  sure  the  poor  wretch 
wishes  me  to  gather  him  one." 

He  threw  a  bit  of  paper  across  the  table  to  Balmaghie. 

"  Read  ye  that,"  he  said.     "  It  is  about  swearing  Baldoon." 

The  laird  looked  at  it  all  over  and  then  began  to  smile. 

"This  is  indeed  like  Andrew  Symson,  doddering  fool 
body  that  he  is  —  aye  scribing  verses,  and  sic-like  verse. 
Heaven  forfend  us  ! " 

And  he  began  to  read. 

UPON   BALDOON. 

"  He  was  no  schismatick.     He  ne'er  withdrew 
Himself  from  the  house  of  God.     He  with  a  few, 
Some  two  or  three,  came  constantly  to  pray 
For  such  as  had  withdrawn  themselves  away. 
Nor  did  he  come  by  fits.     Foul  day  or  fair, 
I  being  in  the  kirk,  was  sure  to  see  him  there. 
Had  he  withdrawn,  'tis  like,  these  two  or  three 
Being  thus  discouraged,  had  deserted  me  : 
So  that  my  muse  'gainst  Priscian  avers, 
He,  he  alone,  was  my  parishioners !  " 

"Aye,"  said  Balmaghie,  "I  warrant  the  puir  hill-folk 
werna  muckle  the  better  o'  Baldoon's  supplications." 


236  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then  Claverhouse,  receiving  back  the  paper,  looked  up 
with  great  alertness. 

"But  I  have  chanced  in  that  very  country  to  fall  on 
a  nest  of  the  fanatics." 

He  looked  cautiously  about,  and  I  had  no  more  than 
time  to  step  back  into  the  little  pantry  where  Alisoun 
Begbie  was  already  washing  the  dishes.  She  put  her  arm 
about  me  to  keep  me  within,  and  before  she  let  me  go,  she 
kissed  me.  Which  I  suffered  without  great  concern  —  for, 
being  a  lass  from  Borgue,  she  was  not  uncomely,  though, 
like  all  these  shore  lassies,  a  little  forritsome. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
A  CAVALIER'S  WOOING. 

JOHN  GRAHAM  assured  himself  that  none  of  the  servants 
were  in  the  room,  and  then  he  said  : 

"  I  have  sure  informations  from  one  Birsay  Smith,  a 
cobbler,  by  which  I  have  my  hand  as  good  as  upon  the 
throat  of  that  arch-fanatic,  Anthony  Lennox  of  the  Duchrae, 
and  also  upon  Sandy  Gordon  of  Earlstoun,  his  younger 
brother  William,  Maclellan  of  Barscobe,  and  some  others. 
It  will  be  a  great  taking,  for  there  is  a  long  price  on  every 
head  of  them." 

"  Think  you,  John,"  said  Balmaghie,  shrewdly,  "  that  you 
will  add  Earlstoun  and  Barscobe  to  your  new  lands  of 
Freuch?" 

"Nay,"  said  Clavers,  "that  is  past  hoping.  They  will 
give  them  to  their  English  colonels,  Oglethorpe  and  the 
like.  Aye,  even  though,  at  my  own  request,  I  had  the 
promise  from  the  Council  of  the  estates  of  any  that  I  should 
find  cause  of  forfeiture  against,  a  thing  which  is  only  my 
due.  But  as  by  this  time  you  may  know,  a  plain  soldier 
hath  small  chance  among  the  wiles  of  the  courtiers." 

"I  question,  John,  if  thou  hadst  all  Galloway  and 
Nidsdale  to  boot,  thou  wouldst  be  happy,  even  with  the 
fairest  maid  therein,  for  one  short  week.  Thou  wouldst  be 
longing  to  have  Boscobel  out,  saddled  and  bridled,  and  be 
off  to  the  Whig-hunting  with  a  <  Ho-Tally-Ho  ! '  For  that  is 
thy  way,  John  !  " 

Claverhouse  laughed  a  little  stern  laugh  like  a  man  that  is 
237 


238  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

forced  to  laugh  at  himself,  yet  is  somedeal  proud  of  what 
he  hears. 

"It  is  true,"  he  said.  "There  is  no  hunting  like  this 
hunting  of  men,  which  the  King's  service  sees  in  these  days. 
It  makes  it  worth  living  to  keep  the  crown  of  the  moorland 
with  one's  company  of  dragoons,  like  a  man  hefting  lambs 
on  a  sheep  farm;  and  know  that  no  den,  no  knowe,  no 
moss,  no  hill  has  been  left  unsearched  for  the  King's  rebels." 

"And  how  speeds  the  wooing,  John? "  I  heard  Balmaghie 
say  after  a  little  pause,  and  the  opening  of  another  bottle. 

For  I  thought  it  no  shame  to  listen,  since  the  lives  of  all 
that  were  dear  to  me,  as  well  as  my  own,  were  in  this  man's 
power.  And,  besides,  I  knew  very  well  that  Kate  McGhie 
had  put  me  in  this  place,  that  I  might  gain  good  intelligence 
of  the  intentions  of  the  great  captain  of  the  man-hunters. 

Clavers  sat  awhile  silent.  He  looked  long  and  scrupu- 
lously at  his  fine  white  hand  and  fingered  the  lace  ruffle 
upon  his  sleeve. 

"  It  was  of  that  mainly  that  I  came  to  speak  to  you,  Roger. 
Truth  to  tell,  it  does  not  prosper  to  my  mind." 

"  Hath  the  fair  Jean  proved  unkind  ?  "  said  Roger  McGhie, 
looking  over  at  Claverhouse,  with  a  quiet  smile  in  his  eye. 

John  Graham  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  a  quick 
amused  look  and  threw  back  his  clustering  love  locks. 

"No,"  he  said;  "there  is,  I  think,  little  fear  of  that." 

"What  then  is  the  difficulty  —  her  mother?  " 

"Aye,"  said  Claverhouse,  "that  is  more  like  it.  Yet 
though  the  Lady  Dundonald  drills  me  and  flytes  me  and 
preaches  at  me,  I  care  not  so  much.  For  like  the  hardships 
of  life,  that  will  come  to  an  end.  Nevertheless,  I  own  that 
at  times  I  am  tempted  to  take  the  lady  at  my  saddle-bow, 
and  ride  out  from  Paisley  to  return  no  more." 

"  You  will  not  do  that,  John  ! "  said  Balmaghie  quietly, 
with  a  certain  light  of  irony  in  his  eye. 


A  CAVALIER'S  WOOING.  239 

Claverhouse  looked  up  quickly. 

"How  so,  Balmaghie?"  he  said,  and  I  saw  through  my 
little  slant  wicket  the  pride  grow  in  his  eye. 

"  The  forty  thousand  marks,  John." 

Claverhouse  struck  his  hand  on  the  table. 

"  Thank  you "  he  said  coldly,  and  then  for  a  moment 

was  silent. 

"  There  is  no  man  that  dare  say  that  to  me  but  yourself, 
Roger  McGhie,"  he  added. 

"  No,"  said  the  Laird  of  Balmaghie,  sipping  at  his  canary, 
"  and  that  is  why  you  rode  over  to  see  me  to-night,  John  — 
a  silly  old  man  in  a  dull  house,  instead  of  guzzling  at  Kirk- 
cudbright with  Winram  and  the  burgesses  and  bailies  thereof. 
You  are  a  four-square,  truth-telling  man,  and  yet  hear  little 
of  it,  save  at  the  house  of  Balmaghie." 

Claverhouse  still  said  nothing,  but  stared  at  the  table, 
from  which  the  cloth  had  been  removed. 

The  elder  man  reached  over  and  put  his  hand  on  the 
sleeve  of  the  younger. 

"Why,  John,"  he  said  softly,  "pluck  up  heart  and  do 
nothing  hastily  —  as  I  know  thou  wilt  not.  Forty  thousand 
marks  is  not  to  be  despised.  It  will  help  thee  mightily 
with  Freuch  and  Dudhope.  It  is  worth  having  thy  ears 
soundly  boxed  once  or  twice  for  a  persecutor,  by  a  cove- 
nanting mother-in-law." 

"  But  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it,  Roger/'  said  Claver- 
house, who  had  gotten  over  his  pique;  "my  enemies  lay 
it  against  me  to  York  and  the  King,  that  I  frequent  a  sus- 
pected and  disloyal  house.  They  will  put  me  down  as  they 
put  down  Aberdeen " 

At  this  moment  I  felt  a  hand  upon  my  arm.  It  was  that 
of  Kate  McGhie.  She  drew  me  out  of  the  closet  where 
Alisoun  had  bestowed  me,  intending,  as  she  intimated,  to 
come  cosily  in  beside  me  when  she  had  washed  the  dishes. 


240  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

But  Kate  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  together  we  passed 
out  into  the  cool  night.  Wat  met  us  by  the  outer  gate. 
He  was  standing  in  the  shadow.  There  was  then  no  time 
for  me  to  tell  Kate  what  I  had  heard  Claverhouse  reveal  to 
the  laird  of  his  intentions  regarding  Anton  Lennox  and  my 
brother  Sandy.  To  which  there  was  added  a  further  great 
uncertainty,  lest  Birsay  had  been  able  to  add  to  his  other 
informations  an  account  of  my  mother's  hiding-place  and 
our  own  disguises.  Nay,  even  though  he  had  not  already 
done  so,  there  was  no  saying  how  soon  this  might  come 
about. 

However,  as  we  stood  conferring  a  moment  together, 
there  was  one  came  running  hastily  from  the  house  to  the 
stables,  carrying  a  lantern. 

Then  in  a  little,  out  of  the  stable  door  came  clattering  the 
war-horse  of  the  commander  of  dragoons. 

William  McCutcheon,  the  serving-man  and  chief  groom 
of  the  stables,  led  Boscobel  with  a  certain  awe,  as  if  he 
might  actually  be  leading  the  Accuser  of  the  Brethren, 
haltered  and  accoutred. 

He  had  not  been  at  the  door  a  minute,  when  Claverhouse 
come  out  and  went  down  the  steps,  drawing  on  his  riding 
gauntlets  as  he  came.  Roger  McGhie  walked  behind  him 
carrying  burning  candles  in  a  great  silver  triple  candlestick. 
He  held  the  light  aloft  in  his  hand  while  the  cavalier  mounted 
with  a  free,  easy  swing  into  the  saddle ;  and,  gathering  the 
reins  in  his  hand,  turned  to  bid  his  host  adieu.  "Be  a 
wee  canny  with  the  next  Whig  ye  catch,  for  the  sake  of 
your  ain  bonny  Whiggie,  Jean  Cochrane  ! "  cried  Roger 
McGhie  of  Balmaghie,  holding  the  cresset  high  above  his 
head. 

"  Deil  a  fear ! "  laughed  Clavers,  gaily  waving  his  hand. 
"  'Tis  not  in  the  power  of  love  or  any  other  folly  to  alter  my 
loyalty." 


A  CAVALIER'S  WOOING.  241 

"Pshaw!"  said  the  laird;  "then,  John,  be  assured  ye 
ken  nothing  about  the  matter." 

But  Claverhouse  was  already  clattering  across  the  cobble 
stones  of  the  yard.  We  drew  back  into  the  deep  shadow  of 
the  bushes  and  he  passed  us,  a  noble  figure  of  a  man  sitting 
slenderly  erect  on  his  black  horse  Boscobel,  and  so  riding 
out  into  the  night,  like  a  prince  of  darkness  going  forth  to  war. 
***** 

That  night,  down  in  the  little  holding  of  Waterside,  upon 
the  broad  meadows  of  the  Dee,  we  held  a  council.  My 
mother  was  for  setting  out  forthwith  to  look  after  her  son 
Sandy. 

But  I  gently  dissuaded  her,  telling  her  that  Sandy  was  far 
better  left  to  his  own  resources,  than  with  her  safety  also  to 
provide  for. 

"  I  daresay, "  said  she,  a  little  shortly ;  "  but  have  you 
thought  how  I  am  like  to  sleep  when  you  are  all  away — 
when  hi  every  foot  that  comes  by  the  door,  I  hear  the 
messenger  who  comes  to  tell  me  of  my  sons  streeked  stiff 
in  their  winding  sheets  ?  " 

But,  after  all,  we  managed  to  persuade  her  to  bide  on  at 
the  Boatcroft,  where  little  Margaret  of  Glen  Vernock  was  to 
stay  with  her  for  company.  As  for  the  rest  of  us,  we  had 
information  brought  us  by  sure  hands,  of  the  hiding-places 
of  Anton  Lennox  and  the  rest  of  the  wanderers. 

The  maids  were  set  upon  accompanying  us  —  Maisie 
Lennox  to  see  her  father,  and  Kate  McGhie  because  Maisie 
Lennox  was  going.  But  after  a  long  controversy  we  also 
prevailed  on  them  to  abide  at  home  and  wait  for  our  return. 
Yet  it  came  to  me  afterwards  that  I  saw  a  look  pass  between 
them,  such  as  I  had  seen  before,  when  it  is  in  the  heart  of 
the  women  folk  to  play  some  trick  upon  the  duller  wits  of 
mankind.  It  is  as  though  they  said,  "After  all,  what  gulls 
these  men  be ! " 


242  THE   MEN   OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

So  that  night  I  slept  with  Wat  in  the  gardener's  hut,  and 
early  in  the  morning  we  went  down  to  the  great  house  to 
bid  the  maids  good-bye.  But  there  we  found  only  Alisoun 
Begbie.  The  nest  was  empty  and  the  birds  flown.  Only 
Roger  McGhie  was  walking  up  and  down  the  beech  avenue 
of  the  old  house,  deep  in  thought.  He  had  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  and  sometimes  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
seemed  to  smile  through  his  gloom  with  a  curious  pleas- 
antry. Wat  and  I  kept  well  out  of  his  sight,  and  I  could 
not  help  wondering  how  much,  after  all,  he  understood  of 
our  ongoings.  More  than  any  of  us  thought  at  that  time, 
I  warrant,  for  it  was  the  man's  humour  to  know  much  and 
say  little. 

Alisoun  Begbie,  who  seemed  not  unwilling  that  we 
should  stop  and  converse  with  her,  told  us  that  after  Cla- 
vers  had  departed,  Mistress  Kate  had  gone  in  to  her  father 
to  tell  him  that  she  was  going  away  for  a  space  of  days. 

"  Mind,  ye  are  not  to  rise  before  your  ordinary  in  the 
morning,  father,"  she  said;  "I  shall  be  gone  by  the  dawn." 

"Very  well,  Kate,"  he  replied,  continuing  to  draw  off 
his  coat  and  prepare  for  bed;  "I  shall  sell  the  Boreland  to 
pay  the  fine." 

This  was  all  he  said;  and  having  kissed  his  daughter 
good-night,  calmly  and  pleasantly  as  was  his  wont,  he  set  a 
silken  skull-cap  on  his  crown  and  fell  asleep. 

Truly  a  remarkable  man  was  Roger  McGhie  of  Bal- 
maghie. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

IN    COVE   MACATERICK* 

WAT  and  I  took  our  way  immediately  towards  those  wilds 
where,  as  we  had  been  advised,  Auld  Anton  Lennox  was 
hidden.  He  was  (so  we  were  informed)  stricken  with 
great  sickness  and  needed  our  ministrations.  But  in  the 
wild  country  into  which  we  were  going  was  no  provision 
for  the  up-putting  of  young  and  delicate  maids,  specially 
such  as  were  accustomed  to  the  luxuries  of  the  house  of 
Balmaghie. 

The  days,  however,  were  fine  and  dry,  and  a  fanning 
wind  from  the  north  blew  in  our  faces  as  we  went.  It  was 
near  to  the  road-end  of  the  Duchrae,  up  which  I  had  so 
often  helped  the  cars  (or  sledges  of  wood  with  birch  twigs 
for  wheels)  to  drag  the  hay  crop,  that  we  met  Roderick 
MacPherson,  a  Highland  man-servant  of  the  Laird  of  Bal- 
maghie, riding  one  pony  and  leading  other  two.  We  knew 
them  at  once  as  those  which  for  common  were  ridden  by 
Kate  McGhie  and  Maisie  Lennox. 

"Hey,  where  away,  Roderick?"  cried  Wat,  as  soon  as 
he  set  eyes  on  the  cavalcade. 

The  fellow  looked  through  his  lowering  thatch  of  eye- 
brows and  grunted,  but  whether  with  stupidity  or  cunning 
it  had  been  hard  to  say. 

"Speak!"  said  Wat,  threateningly;  "you  can  under- 
stand well  enough,  when  they  cry  from  the  kitchen  door 
that  it  is  porridge  time." 

"The  leddies  was  tak'  a  ride,"  MacPherson  answered, 
243 


244  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

with  a  cock  in  his  eye  that  angered  Wat,  whose  temper, 
indeed,  in  these  days  was  not  of  the  most  enduring. 

"Where  did  you  leave  them?  "  cried  he  of  Lochinvar. 

"It  was  on  a  muir,  no  far  frae  a  burnside;  I  was  fair 
forget  where!"  said  Roderick,  with  a  look  of  the  most 
dense  stupidity. 

Then  I  saw  the  fellow  had  been  commanded  not  to  tell, 
so  I  said  to  Wat, 

"Come  on,  Wat.  Kate  has  ordered  him  not  to  tell 
us." 

"This  is  a  bonny  like  thing,"  said  Wat,  angrily,  "that  I 
canna  truss  him  up  and  make  him  tell,  only  because  I  am 
riding  with  the  hill-folk.  Oh,  that  I  were  a  King's  man 
of  any  sort  for  half  an  hour." 

For,  indeed,  it  is  the  glory  of  the  field-folk,  who  have 
been  blamed  for  many  extremes  and  wild  opinions,  that 
though  tortured  and  tormented  themselves  by  the  King's 
party,  they  used  not  torture  upon  their  enemies  —  as  in 
later  times  even  the  Whigs  did,  when  after  the  Eighty-eight 
it  came  to  be  their  time  to  govern. 

So  we  permitted  the  Highland  tyke  to  go  on  his  way. 
There  is  no  need  to  go  into  the  place  and  manner  of  our 
journeyings,  in  such  a  pleasant  and  well-kenned  country 
as  the  strath  of  the  Kells.  But,  suffice  it  to  say,  after  a 
time  we  betook  ourselves  to  the  broad  of  the  moors,  and 
so  held  directly  for  the  fastnesses  of  the  central  hills,  where 
the  poor  hunted  folk  kept  sanctuary. 

We  kept  wide  of  the  rough  and  tumbled  country  about 
the  lochs  of  Neldricken  and  Enoch;  because,  to  our  cost 
and  detriment,  we  knew  that  place  was  already  much  fre- 
quented by  the  ill-contriving  gipsy  people  thereabouts  — 
rascals  who  thought  no  more  of  taking  the  life  of  a  godly 
person,  than  of  killing  one  of  the  long-woolled  mountain 
sheep  which  are  the  staple  of  these  parts.  So  there  was 


IN   COVE  MACATERICK.  245 

no  need  to  run  into  more  danger.  We  were  in  plenty 
already  without  that. 

After  a  long  while  we  found  ourselves  under  the  front  of 
the  Dungeon  Hill,  which  is  the  wildest  and  most  precipi- 
tous in  all  that  country.  They  say  that  when  it  thunders 
there,  all  the  lightnings  of  heaven  join  together  to  play 
upon  the  rocks  of  the  Dungeon.  And,  indeed,  it  looks 
like  it;  for  most  of  the  rocks  there  are  rent  and  shattered, 
as  though  a  giant  had  broken  them  and  thrown  them  about 
in  his  play. 

Beneath  this  wild  and  rocky  place  we  kept  our  way,  till, 
across  the  rounded  head  of  the  Hill  of  the  Star,  we  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  dim  country  of  hag  and  heather  that  lay 
beyond. 

Then  we  held  up  the  brae  that  is  called  the  Gadlach, 
where  is  the  best  road  over  the  burn  of  Palscaig,  and  so  up 
into  the  great  wide  valley  through  which  runs  the  Eglin 
Lane. 

Wat  and  I  had  our  precise  information  as  to  the  cave  in 
which  lay  the  Covenanter,  Anton  Lennox.  So  that,  guid- 
ing ourselves  by  our  marks,  we  held  a  straight  course  for 
the  corner  of  the  Back  Hill  of  the  Star  in  which  the  hiding 
place  was. 

I  give  no  nearer  direction  to  the  famous  Cove  Macate- 
rick  for  the  plainest  reasons,  though  it  is  there  to  this  day, 
and  the  herds  ken  it  well.  But  who  knows  how  soon  the 
times  may  grow  troubleous  again,  and  the  Cove  reassert  its 
ancient  safety.  But  all  that  I  will  say  is,  that  if  you  want 
to  find  Cove  Macaterick,  William  Howatson,  the  herd  of  the 
Merrick,  or  douce,  John  Macmillan  that  dwells  at  Bongill 
in  the  Howe  of  Trool,  can  take  you  there  —  that  is,  if  your 
legs  be  able  to  carry  you,  and  you  can  prove  yourself  neither 
outlaw  nor  King's  soldier.  And  this  word  also,  I  say,  that 
in  the  process  of  your  long  journeying  you  will  find  out 


246  THE  MEN   OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

this,  that  though  any  bairn  may  write  a  history  book,  it 
takes  a  man  to  herd  the  Merrick. 

So  in  all  good  time  we  came  to  the  place.  It  is  half-way 
up  a  clint  of  high  rocks  overlooking  Loch  Macaterick,  and 
the  hillside  is  bosky  all  about  with  bushes,  both  birk  and 
self-sown  mountain  ash.  The  mouth  of  the  cavern  is  quite 
hidden  in  the  summer  by  the  leaves,  and  in  the  winter  by 
the  mat  of  interlacing  branches  and  ferns.  Above,  there 
is  a  diamond-shaped  rock,  which  ever  threatens  to  come 
down  and  block  the  entrance  to  the  cave.  Which  indeed 
it  is  bound  to  do  some  day. 

Wat  and  I  put  aside  the  tangle  and  crawled  within  the 
black  mouth  of  the  cavern  one  at  a  time,  till  we  came  to  a 
wider  part,  for  the  whole  place  is  narrow  and  constricted. 
And  there,  on  a  pallet  bed,  very  pale  and  far  through,  we 
found  Auld  Anton  —  who,  when  he  saw  us,  turned  his  head 
and  raised  his  hand  by  the  wrist  in  greeting.  His  lips 
moved,  but  what  he  said  we  could  not  tell.  So  I  crept 
back  and  made  shift  to  get  him  a  draught  of  water  from  a 
well  upon  the  hillside,  which  flowed  near  by  the  mouth  of 
the  cave.  The  spring  water  somewhat  revived  him,  and 
he  sat  up,  leaning  heavily  against  me  as  he  did  so. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  speak. 
Wat  and  I  looked  at  one  another,  and  as  we  saw  the  con- 
dition of  things  in  the  cave,  it  became  very  evident  to  us 
that  the  lassies  Kate  and  Maisie  had  either  wandered  from 
the  road,  or  had  been  detained  in  some  manner  that  was 
unknown  to  us.  So  Wat,  being  ever  for  instant  action, 
proposed  that  he*  should  go  off  and  seek  the  lassies,  and 
that  I  should  bide  and  do  my  best  to  succour  Auld  Anton 
in  his  extremity. 

To  this  I  consented,  and  Wat  instantly  took  his  way 
with  his  sword,  his  pistols,  and  his  gaily  set  bonnet  — 
walking  with  that  carriage  which  had  been  little  else  than 


IN   COVE   MACATERICK.  247 

a  swagger  in  the  old  days,  but  which  now  was  no  more  than 
the  air  of  well-set  distinction  which  marks  the  man  of 
ancient  family  and  life-long  training  in  arms. 

So  I  was  left  alone  with  the  father  of  the  lassie  I  loved. 
I  have  said  it.  There  is  no  use  of  denying  it  any  longer. 
Indeed,  the  times  were  not  such  as  to  encourage  much 
dallying  with  love's  dainty  misunderstandings.  We  were 
among  days  too  dark  for  that.  But  I  owned  as  I  sat  there, 
with  her  father's  head  on  my  lap,  that  it  was  for  Maisie 
Lennox's  sake,  and  not  altogether  for  the  sake  of  human 
kindness,  that  I  was  left  here  in  the  wilderness  to  nurse 
Anton  Lennox  of  the  Duchrae. 

As  soon  as  he  could  speak,  Anton  began  to  tell  me  of  his 
illness. 

"I  fell,"  he  said,  "'from  my  pride  of  strength  in  one 
hour.  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  departed  from  me,  and  I 
became  even  as  the  mown  grass,  that  to-day  is  and  to- 
morrow is  cast  into  the  oven." 

He  lay  back  and  breathed  quickly  for  a  moment.  I 
entreated  him  not  to  speak,  but  he  put  my  words  aside 
impatiently  with  his  hand. 

"Thus  it  was.  I  was  fleeing  with  a  few  of  the  people 
from  before  the  persecutors,  and  as  we  came  over  the  hip  of 
the  Meaull  of  Garryhorn,  the  horsemen  rode  hotly  behind 
us.  Then  suddenly  there  came  upon  me  a  dwam  and  a 
turning  in  my  head,  so  that  I  cried  to  them  to  run  on  and 
leave  me  to  the  pursuers.  But  to  this  the  godly  lads  would 
in  no  wise  consent.  'We  will  carry  you,'  they  said,  'and 
put  you  in  some  hole  in  the  moss  and  cover  you  with 
heather. '  So  they  designed,  but  the  enemy  being  very  close 
upon  us,  they  got  me  no  further  than  a  little  peat  brow  at 
the  lane-side  down  there.  They  laid  me  on  a  shelf  where 
the  bank  came  over  me.  Then  I  heard  our  people  scatter- 
ing and  running  in  different  directions,  in  order  that  they 


248  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

might  draw  the  enemy  away  from  me.  So  I  lay  still  and 
waited  for  them  to  come  and  take  me,  if  so  it  should  be 
the  will  of  the  Lord.  And  over  me  I  heard  the  horses  of 
the  soldiers  plunging.  One  beast,  as  it  gathered  way  for 
the  spring  over  the  burn,  sent  its  hoof  down  through  the 
black  peat  and  the  stead  of  its  hoof  was  on  my  bonnet's 
brim.  Yet,  according  to  the  mercies  of  the  Lord,  me  it 
harmed  not.  But  the  soldier  fell  off  and  hurt  his  head  in 
his  steel  cap  upon  the  further  bank,  whereat  he  swore  — 
which  was  a  manifest  judgment  upon  him,  to  tangle  him 
yet  deeper  in  the  wrath  of  God." 

So  here  I  abode  in  the  cave  with  Anton,  and  we  spoke  of 
many  things,  but  specially  of  the  lassie  that  was  near  to  my 
heart  and  the  pearl  of  his  soul.  He  told  me  sweet  simple 
things  of  her  childhood  that  warmed  me  like  well-matured 
wine. 

As  how  that  there  was  a  day  when,  her  mother  being 
alive,  Maisie  came  in  and  said,  "  When  I  am  a  great  girl 
and  have  bairns  of  my  own,  I  shall  let  them  stay  all  day  in 
the  gardens  where  the  grosarts  are,  and  never  say,  'You 
shall  not  touch ! '  " 

This  Anton  thought  to  be  a  thing  wondrously  sound  and 
orthodox,  and  he  saw  in  the  child's  word  the  stumbling 
stone  of  our  mother  Eve. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE    BOWER  OF   THE    STAR. 

DAY  by  day  I  tended  him  as  gently  as  I  could,  till  in  the 
cave  our  provisions  were  well-nigh  spent.  Then,  one  grey 
morning  I  took  my  pistol  to  go  out  on  the  hillside  to  see 
if  I  could  shoot  aught  to  eat.  But  because  of  my  ner- 
vousness, or  other  cause,  I  could  at  that  time  do  nothing. 
Indeed,  not  so  much  as  a  whaup  came  near  me  on  that 
great,  wide,  dappled  hill. 

I  saw  a  hill  fox  rise  and  run.  He  was  a  fine  beast  and 
very  red,  and  held  his  tail  nobly  behind  him  like  a  flag. 
But,  hardly  beset  as  we  were,  we  could  with  difficulty  have 
eaten  fox,  even  had  I  been  able  to  shoot  him,  which  I  was 
not. 

The  day  passed  slowly,  the  night  came,  and  it  went  sore 
to  my  heart  that  I  was  able  to  do  so  little  for  the  friend  of 
one  I  loved.  I  saw  that  he  would  have  mended  readily 
enough,  if  he  had  received  the  right  nutriment,  which, 
alas !  it  seemed  far  out  of  my  power  to  obtain.  Yet  in  the 
morning,  when  I  went  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  lo !  there, 
immediately  to  the  right  of  me,  on  a  bare  place,  were  two 
great  whaup  eggs,  broad-buttocked  and  splashed  with  black. 
I  never  was  gladder  to  see  food.  It  was  late  for  the  whaups 
to  be  breeding;  and,  indeed,  they  had  mostly  left  the  moor- 
land by  that  time.  But,  nevertheless,  it  was  manifest  that 
Providence  had  bidden  some  bird,  perhaps  disappointed  of 
an  earlier  brood  or  late  mated,  to  come  and  lay  the  eggs 
before  our  door. 

249 


250  THE   MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

I  bade  Anton  take  the  eggs  by  the  ancient  method  of 
sucking —  which  he  made  shift  to  do,  and  was  very  greatly 
strengthened  thereby.  So  every  morning  as  long  as  we 
remained  there,  the  wild  bird  laid  an  egg  in  the  morning, 
which  made  the  Covenanter's  breakfast.  This  is  but  one 
of  the  daily  marvels  from  the  Lord  which  attended  our 
progress.  For  whensoever  those  that  have  been  through 
the  perilous  time  come  together,  they  recount  these  things 
to  one  another,  and  each  has  his  like  tale  of  preservation 
and  protection  to  tell. 

But  that  minds  me  of  a  strange  thing.  Once  during  the 
little  while  when  I  companied  with  the  Compellers,  it  was 
my  hap  to  meet  with  clattering  John  Crichton,  that  rank 
persecutor.  And  what  was  my  surprise  to  hear  that  all  his 
talk  ran  upon  certain  providential  dreams  he  had  had  in 
the  night  time,  by  which  there  was  revealed  to  him  the 
hiding  place  of  many  of  the  "fanatics."  Aye,  and  even 
the  very  place  pointed  out  to  him  in  the  dream  where  it 
would  be  most  convenient  to  compass  their  capturing. 
And  this  in  due  time  he  brought  about,  or  said  he  did. 
But,  for  all  that,  I  do  not  think  that  the  company  he  was 
among  set  great  store  by  his  truthfulness.  For  after  each 
wondrous  story  of  adventure  and  second-sight  they  would 
roar  with  laughter,  and  say :  "  Well  done,  Crichton !  Out 
with  another  one !  " 

After  a  day  or  two  of  this  lack  of  food,  it  came  suddenly 
to  me  what  a  dumbhead  I  was,  to  bide  with  an  empty  belly 
in  a  place  where  at  least  there  must  be  plenty  of  fish  near 
at  hand.  So  I  rose  early  from  off  my  bed  of  heather  tops, 
and  betook  me  down  to  the  river  edge.  It  is  nothing  but 
a  burn  which  they  call  the  Eglin  Lane,  a  long,  bare  water, 
slow  and  peaty,  but  with  some  trout  of  size  in  it.  Also 
from  the  broads  of  Loch  Macaterick,  there  came  another 
burn  with  clearer  sparkling  water  and  much  sand  in  the 


THE  BOWER  OF  THE  STAR.  251 

pools.  There  were  trout  in  both,  as  one  might  see  by 
stealing  up  to  the  edge  of  the  brow  and  looking  over 
quickly.  But  owing  to  the  drought,  there  was  water  only 
in  the  pools  of  Eglin,  and  often  but  the  smallest  trickle 
beneath  the  stones. 

I  had  a  beauty  out  in  a  few  moments;  for  so  eager  was 
I  that  I  leaped  into  the  burn  just  as  I  was,  without  so  much 
as  waiting  to  take  off  any  of  my  garments.  So  in  the  pool 
there  was  a-rushing  and  a-chasing  till  I  had  him  out  on 
the  grass,  his  speckled  sides  glinting  bonny  on  the  heather 
as  he  tossed  himself  briskly  from  side  to  side.  I  followed 
the  burn  down  to  the  fork  of  the  water  that  flows  from 
Loch  Macaterick,  and  fished  all  the  pools  in  this  manner. 
By  that  time  I  had  enough  for  three  meals  at  the  least;  or 
perhaps,  considering  the  poor  state  of  our  appetites,  for 
more  than  that.  I  put  those  we  should  not  want  that  day 
into  a  pretty  little  fish-pond,  which  makes  a  kind  of  back- 
water on  one  of  the  burns  springing  down  from  the  side  of 
the  Rig  of  the  Star.  And  this  was  the  beginning  of  the 
fish-pond  which  continued  to  supply  us  with  food  all  the 
time  we  abode  there. 

While  I  was  in  the  river  bottom,  it  chanced  that  I  looked 
up  the  great  smooth  slopes  of  the  opposite  hill,  which  is 
one  of  the  range  of  Kells. 

There  is  a  little  shaggy  clump  of  trees  on  the  bare  side 
of  it,  and  I  could  have  sworn  that  among  the  trees  I  saw 
people  stirring. 

I  could  only  think  that  the  people  there  were  wanderers 
like  ourselves,  or  else  spies  sent  to  keep  an  eye  on  this 
wide,  wild  valley  betwen  the  Garryhorn  hill  and  the  Spear 
of  the  Merrick. 

So  I  came  back  to  the  cave  no  little  dashed  in  spirit,  in 
spite  of  my  great  successes  with  the  trout.  I  said  nothing 
about  what  I  had  seen  to  Auld  Anton,  for  he  was  both 


252  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

weak  and  feverish.  And  though  certainly  mending,  he  was 
not  yet  able  to  move  out  into  the  sunshine  and  lie  among 
the  bracken,  a  thing  which  would  have  done  him  much 
good  on  these  still  warm  days. 

But  I  made  a  fire  with  heather  and  the  roots  of  ancient 
trees,  which  in  that  strange  wild  desert  stick  out  of  the  peat 
at  every  step.  There  I  roasted  the  trout,  of  which  Anton 
Lennox  ate  heartily.  I  think  they  had  more  relish  to  a 
sick  man's  palate  than  whaup  eggs,  even  though  these  came 
to  him  as  it  were  in  a  miraculous  manner;  while  I  had 
guddled  the  trout  with  my  boots  and  breeks  on. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  I  bethought  me  that  I  should 
make  an  excuse,  and  steal  away  over  to  the  side  of  the 
Meaull,  to  see  what  it  might  be  that  was  stirring  on  that 
lonely  brae-face.  For  save  the  scraggy  scrunts  of  the  rowan 
trees  and  birks  that  surround  the  cave,  there  was  not  a  tree 
within  sight,  till  the  woods  at  the  upper  end  of  Loch  Doon 
began  to  take  the  sun. 

I  carefully  charged  my  pistols  and  told  Anton  how  I  pro- 
posed to  go  out  to  shoot  mountain  hares  or  other  victual 
that  I  could  see. 

He  did  not  say  a  word  to  bid  me  stay,  but  only  advised 
me  to  keep  very  close  to  the  cave.  Because,  once  off  the 
bosky  face  of  the  cliff,  there  was  no  saying  what  hidden 
eyes  might  spy  me  out.  For  Lag,  he  said,  was  certainly 
lying  in  hold  at  Garryhorn  at  that  time,  and  Claverhouse 
himself  was  on  the  borders  of  the  country.  Concerning 
this  last  I  knew  better  than  he,  and  was  much  desirous  that 
we  could  get  Anton  well  enough  to  move  further  out  of  the 
reach  of  his  formidable  foes. 

I  started  just  when  the  heated  haze  of  the  afternoon  was 
clearing  with  the  first  early-falling  chill  of  even.  The  hills 
were  casting  shadows  upon  each  other  towards  the  Dungeon 
and  Loch  Enoch,  where,  in  the  wildest  and  most  rugged 


THE  BOWER  OF  THE  STAR.  253 

country,  some  of  the  folk  of  the  wilderness  were  in  hid- 
ing. 

As  I  went  I  heard  the  grey  crow  croak  and  the  muckle 
corbie  cry  "Glonk,"  somewhere  over  by  the  Slock  of  the 
Hooden.  They  had  got  a  lamb  to  themselves  or  a  dead 
sheep  belike.  But  to  me  it  sounded  like  the  gloating  of 
the  dragoons  over  some  captured  company  of  the  poor 
wandering  Presbyters.  It  seemed  a  strange  thing  for  me, 
when  I  came  to  think  of  it,  that  I,  the  son  of  the  Laird  of 
Earlstoun,  my  mother,  that  had  long  time  been  the  lady 
thereof,  and  my  brother  Sandy,  that  was  now  Earlstoun 
himself,  should  all  be  skipping  and  hiding  like  thieves, 
with  the  dragoons  at  our  tail.  Now  this  thought  came  not 
often  to  us,  who  were  born  during  the  low  estate  of  the 
Scottish  kirk.  But  when  it  did  come,  the  thought  was 
even  more  bitter  to  us,  because  we  had  no  sustaining  memo- 
ries of  her  former  high  estate,  nor  remembered  what  God's 
kirk  had  been  in  Scotland  from  the  year  1638  down  to  the 
weary  coming  of  Charles  Stuart  and  the  down-sitting  of 
the  Drunken  Parliament  in  the  Black  Year  of  Sixty. 

But  for  all  that  I  thought  on  these  things  as  I  went. 
Right  carefully  I  kept  the  cover  of  every  heather  bush, 
peat  hag,  muckle  grey  granite  stone,  and  waving  clump  of 
bracken.  So  that  in  no  long  space,  by  making  a  wide 
circuit,  I  came  to  look  down  upon  the  little  clump  of  trees, 
where  I  had  seen  the  figures  moving,  as  I  guddled  the  trout 
for  our  dinner  in  the  reaches  of  the  Eglin  Lane. 

Now,  however,  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  quietness  all 
about  the  place,  and  the  scanty  trees  did  not  so  much  as 
wave  a  branch  in  the  still  air  of  the  afternoon. 

Yet  I  saw,  as  it  had  been  the  waft  of  a  jaypiet's  wing 
among  them,  when  I  came  over  the  steep  rocks  of  the 
Hooden's  Slock,  and  went  to  ford  the  Gala  Lane  —  which 
like  the  other  water  was,  by  the  action  of  the  long  dry  year, 


254  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

sunken  to  no  more  than  a  chain  of  pools.  But  as  I  circled 
about  and  came  behind  the  trees,  there  was,  as  I  say,  a 
great  quiet.  My  heart  went  up  and  down  like  a  man's 
hand  at  the  flail  in  a  barn.  Yet  for  my  unquiet,  there  was 
no  great  apparent  reason.  It  might  be,  indeed,  that  the 
enemies  had  laid  a  snare  for  me,  and  that  I  was  already  as 
good  as  setting  out  for  the  Grassmarket,  with  the  ladder 
and  the  rope  before  me,  and  the  lad  with  the  piebald  coat 
at  my  tail.  And  this  was  a  sore  thought  to  me,  for  we 
Gordons  are  not  of  a  race  that  take  hanging  lightly.  We 
never  had  more  religion  than  we  could  carry  for  comfort. 
Yet  we  always  got  our  paiks  for  what  little  we  had,  on 
which  side  soever  we  might  be.  It  is  a  strange  thing  that 
we  should  always  have  managed  to  come  out  undermost 
whichever  party  was  on  top,  and  of  this  I  cannot  tell  the 
reason.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Kennedies  trimmed  their 
sails  to  the  breeze  as  it  blew,  and  were  ever  on  the  wave's 
crest.  But  then  they  were  Ayrshiremen.  And  Ayr,  it  is 
well  kenned,  aye  beats  Galloway  —  that  is,  till  it  comes  to 
the  deadly  bellyful  of  fighting. 

Thus  I  communed  with  myself,  ever  drawing  nearer  to  the 
clump  of  trees  on  the  side  of  the  Meaull,  and  murmuring 
good  Protestant  prayers,  as  if  they  had  been  no  better  than 
Mary's  beads  all  the  time. 

As  I  came  to  the  little  gairy  above  the  trees,  I  looked 
down,  and  from  the  verge  of  it  I  saw  the  strangest  contriv- 
ance. It  was  a  hut  beside  a  tiny  runlet  of  water  —  a  kind 
of  bower  with  the  sides  made  of  bog-oak  stobs  taken  from 
the  edges  of  the  strands.  The  roof  was  daintily  the  eked 
with  green  rushes  and  withes,  bound  about  with  heather. 
Heather  also  was  mingled  with  the  thatching  rushes,  so  that 
from  a  little  distance  the  structure  seemed  to  be  part  of  the 
heath.  I  lay  and  watched  to  see  what  curious  birds  had 
made  such  a  bower  on  the  Star  in  the  dark  days.  For  such 


THE  BOWER  OF  THE  STAR.  255 

dainty  carefulness  was  not  the  wont  of  us  chiels  of  the  Cove- 
nant, and  I  could  not  think  that  any  of  the  rough-riders 
after  us  would  so  have  spent  their  time.  An  inn  yard,  a  pint 
stoup,  and  a  well-cockered  doxie  were  more  to  their  liking, 
than  plaiting  the  bonny  heather  into  a  puppet's  house  upon 
the  hillside. 


CHAPTER  XL. 
s 

MAKDROCHAT   THE  SPY. 

THEN  even  as  upon  the  hillside  I  watched  and  waited,  I 
saw  one  come  out  and  go  round  about  the  bower.  It  was 
a  figure  in  woman's  garments.  I  knew  the  form  at  the  first 
sight.  It  was  Kate  McGhie  of  the  Balmaghie.  I  had  found 
our  lost  maids.  So  I  gave  a  whistle  that  she  knew  with  my 
bird  call,  such  as  every  lad  of  the  heather  carried,  from  old 
Sandy  Peden  to  young  James  Renwick.  At  the  first  sound 
of  it,  she  started  as  though  she  had  been  stung.  At  the 
second  peep  and  whinny  she  came  a  little  way  on  tiptoe. 
So  I  whistled  with  a  curious  turn  at  the  end,  as  Wat,  my 
cousin,  was  wont  to  do.  Whereupon  she  came  a  little  further, 
and  I  could  see  her  eyes  looking  about  eagerly. 

Then  I  stood  up  and  came  running  down  the  side  of  the 
gairy  till  she  saw  me.  She  gave  a  little  cry  and  put  her 
hands  to  her  heart,  for  I  think  she  had  not  expected  to  see 
me,  but  some  other — Wat  of  Lochinvar,  as  I  guess.  But 
for  all  that  she  held  out  her  hands  as  if  she  were  mightily 
glad  to  see  me. 

"  Ye  canna  send  us  back  now  !  "  she  cried  out,  before  even 
I  came  near  to  her. 

"Ye  deserve  to  get  soundly  payed  for  this  misdemeanour," 
I  answered.  "  Did  ye  ever  think  of  the  sore  hearts  ye  left 
behind  ye  ?" 

"Oh,  my  father,"  said  Kate  lightly,  "he  would  just  read 
his  book,  bless  King  Chairlie,  walk  the  avenue,  and  say 
'Kate,  Kate — deiPs  in  the  lassie  !  The  daft  hizzie  has  tane 
the  hill  again!'" 

256 


MARDROCHAT  THE  SPY.  257 

" But  will  not  he  be  angry?  " 

"Angry,  Roger  McGhie?  Na,  na;  I  bade  Mally  Lint- 
white  make  him  potted-head,  and  gie  him  duck  aff  the 
pond  to  his  supper,  stuffed  with  mushrooms ;  and  atween 
that  and  his  claret  wine  he  will  thrive  brawly." 

Then  Kate  McGhie  seemed  suddenly  to  remember  some- 
thing, and  we  went  down  the  hillside  among  the  stones. 

"  Bide  ye  there  ! "  she  commanded,  halting  me  with  her 
hand  as  John  Graham  halts  a  squadron.  And  I  did  as  I 
was  bidden;  for  in  those  days  Kate  had  most  imperious 
ways  with  her. 

She  stole  down  quietly,  stooped  her  head  to  raise  the  flap 
which  made  a  curtain  door  for  the  bower,  and  went  within. 
I  watched  with  all  my  eyes,  for  I  was  eager  to  see  once 
more  Maisie  Lennox,  my  dear  sometime  comrade  and  gossip. 
In  a  little  she  came  forth,  but  what  a  leap  my  heart  gave 
when  I  saw  how  pale  she  looked.  Her  hand  and  arm  were 
bandaged,  and  she  leaned  lightly  on  Kate's  shoulder. 

Do  you  wonder  that  my  desire  went  out  to  her  greatly, 
and  that  all  in  a  moment  I  sprang  down  the  rickle  of  stones 
as  if  they  had  been  a  made  road  ? 

"Maisie,  Maisie,  wha  has  done  this  to  ye,  my  lassie?" 
I  cried,  or  something  like  that  (for  I  do  not  mind  the 
words  very  well) .  And  with  that  she  fell  to  the  greeting  — 
the  lass  that  never  grat  whatever  was  wrong,  so  that  I  was 
fair  beside  myself  to  see  her.  And  Kate  McGhie  pushed  me 
forward  by  the  shoulder,  and  made  signs  frowningly,  which  I 
could  not  understand.  I  thought  she  meant  that  I  was  to 
go  away  till  Maisie  had  somewhat  recovered  herself. 

Very  obediently  I  made  to  do  so,  and  was  for  stealing 
away  up  the  hill  again,  when  Kate  stamped  her  foot  and 

said  suddenly,  "  If  ye  daur !  "  So  I  abode  where  I  was, 

till  it  seemed  to  me  that  Maisie  was  about  to  fall,  being  yet 
weak.  So  I  went  to  hold  her  up,  and  as  soon  as  I  did  so, 


258  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Kate  McGhie  slipped  out  of  sight.  Now,  I  think  she  did 
this  of  intention,  for  when  she  convoyed  me  a  little  down 
the  hill,  when  I  went  in  the  evening,  she  rallied  me  very 
sorely. 

"  Man  William  Gordon,"  she  said ;  "  I  e'en  thocht  I  wad 
hae  to  pit  your  airms  aboot  her,  and  tell  ye  what  to  say. 
Ye  maun  be  a  queer  make  o'  men  up  about  the  Glenkens. 
I  thank  a  merciful  Providence  that  we  have  another  kind  o' 
them  about  the  headend  o'  Balmaghie  !  " 

But  when  she  left  us  I  needed  no  instruction.  With  the 
best  will  in  the  world  I  fell  to  comforting  Maisie;  and 
though  I  put  not  down  the  matter  of  our  discourse  (which 
concerned  only  ourselves),  I  can  vouch  for  it  that  speedily 
we  were  at  one.  And  for  a  long  season  I  sat  on  the  grey 
bowder  stones  of  the  gairy  and  made  much  of  her  in  an- 
other fashion  than  that  of  a  comrade. 

Then  after  this  our  first  pleasuring  was  by-past,  she  told 
me  how  that  Kate  and  she  had  come  away  to  seek  for  her 
father,  because  of  the  report  that  had  come  of  his  danger 
and  illness ;  but  that  an  accident  had  befallen  them  upon 
the  way,  and  they  had  failed  of  their  errand.  What  the 
accident  was  she  would  not  tell  me,  saying  that  Kate 
McGhie  would  be  fond  enough  to  give  me  the  story.  Then 
they  had  built  this  bower  by  the  burnside,  where  ever  since 
they  had  remained  safe  and  unmolested. 

I  asked  how  they  got  their  provender. 

"O,"  she  said,  "Hughie  Kerr  brings  it  over  the  hill  from 
the  howe  of  the  Kells.  We  have  had  no  want  of  good 
meal." 

Then  when  we  had  talked  and  I  had  told  her  of  her  father 
and  his  welfare,  I  bethought  me  to  urge  her  to  bide  where 
she  was,  for  that  night  at  all  erents,  saying  that  perhaps  in 
the  morning  she  might  come  over  to  see  him.  For  I  desired, 
seeing  that  the  place  was  no  longer  safe  (if,  indeed,  the  per- 


MARDROCHAT  THE  SPY.  259 

secutors  did  know  where  Anton  was  hid,  which  I  believed 
not),  to  have  him  shifted  as  soon  as  he  could  bear  the 
journey.  But  yet  I  was  loath  to  do  it,  for  there  is  no  hold 
in  all  the  high  hill-lands  so  commodious  as  Cove  Macaterick 
above  the  loch  of  that  name. 

When  Kate  McGhie  came  again  to  us,  methought  she 
looked  more  approvingly  upon  me  than  before  —  but  indul- 
gently, as  one  that  passes  an  indifferent  piece  of  work,  which 
yet  she  herself  could  better  have  performed. 

As  soon  as  she  came  near,  I  began  to  ask  her  of  Maisie's 
accident  and  the  cause  of  it. 

"  Has  she  not  told  you  herself?  I  am  not  going  to  heat 
cauld  porridge  for  you  twa  to  sup,"  she  said,  in  the  merry 
way  which  never  deserted  her.  For  she  was  ever  the  most 
spirity  wench  in  the  world,  and  though  a  laird's  daughter, 
it  pleased  her  often  to  speak  in  the  country  fashion. 

But  when  I  had  advertised  her  that  Maisie  had  not  said 
a  word  about  the  matter,  but  on  the  contrary  had  referred 
me  to  herself,  Kate  McGhie  made  a  pretty  mouth  and  gave 
a  little  whistle. 

"  After  all,  then,"  she  said,  "  we  are  not  round  the  corner 
yet!" 

Then  she  began  to  tell  me  of  their  journeying  in  the  night 
after  Pherson,  the  serving-man,  had  left  them. 

"We  cam'  over  the  heather  licht  foot  as  hares,"  said  Kate 
McGhie.  "  The  stars  were  bonny  above.  A  late  moon  was 
rising  over  the  taps  by  Balmaclellan,  and  the  thocht  that  I 
was  out  on  the  heather  hills  set  a  canty  fire  in  my  breast. 

"A'  gaed  richt  till  we  cam'  to  the  new  brig  across  the 
Water  o'  Dee,  that  was  biggit  a  year  or  twa  syne  wi*  the 
collections  in  the  kirks.  When  we  cam'  to  it  we  were  liltin' 
blythe  and  careless  at  a  sang,  when  oot  o'  the  dark  o'  the 
far  side  there  steps  a  muckle  cankersome  lookin'  man  in  a 
big  cloak,  an'  Stan's  richt  in  the  midst  o'  the  road  ! 


260  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

" '  Whaur  gang  ye  sae  late  at  nicht  by  this  road  withoot 
the  leave  o'  Mardrochat  ? '  says  he. 

"'Sang,'  says  I.  'Wha's  midden's  this?  And  wha's 
Mardrochat  that  his  barn-door  cock  craws  sae  croose  on 
til't?' 

"  For,"  said  Kate  McGhie,  looking  at  me,  "  as  ye  ken,  I 
hadna  been  learned  at  the  Balmaghie  to  thole  snash  frae 
onybody." 

At  which  I  smiled,  for  well  I  knew  Kate's  reputation  with 
her  tongue. 

" '  This  is  Mardrochat's  road,  and  by  the  King's  command 
his  business  is  to  question  all  comers.  But  it's  not  ill-gi'en 
words  that  he  wad  use  wi'  twa  sic  bonny  lassies  ! '  says  the 
loon  in  the  cloak. 

" '  Dear  sirs,'  says  I,  '  fifty  puddin's  on  a  plate  !  Mardro- 
chat maun  be  a  braw  lad.  Is  he  the  King's  hangman  ?  It's 
an  honourable  and  well-considered  office  nowadays,  they  tell 
me.' 

"'Satisfy  me  whar  ye  are  gaun  sae  late,'  says  the  ill- 
contriving  chiel, '  an'  maybes  I'll  convoy  ye  a  bit  o'  the  road. 
It  shall  never  be  said  that  Mardrochat  left  twa  weel-faured 
lassies  them-lane  in  the  howe  o'  the  nicht ! '  . 

" '  Heighty-teighty,'  I  telled  the  man,  '  oor  coo's  come 
hame,  an'  her  tail's  ahint  her !  Stand  oot  o'  the  road  an1 
let  decent  folk  to  their  beds  ! ' 

" '  There's  nae  beds  bena  the  heather  that  gate  ! '  said  the 
man.  And  faith,  there  he  was  in  the  right  of  it.  There 
were  no  beds  except  the  wanderers'  beds  in  the  moss-hags 
that  road  for  twenty  lang  Scots  miles. 

"  And  all  this  time  we  were  standing  on  the  brig  close  to 
one  another. 

"  *  Let  us  gang  by,'  said  I  again. 

" '  Na,'  said  the  long  loon  that  had  called  himself  Mardro- 
chat, and  wha  I  kenned  for  an  ill-set  informer  that  made  his 


MARDROCHAT  THE  SPY.  261 

siller  by  carrying  tales  to  Clavers  and  Lag,  '  ye  pass  na  this 
road.  Ye  maun  e'en  turn  and  come  wi'  me  ! ' 

"  And  I  think  he  would  have  come  forward  to  put  his 
hand  upon  us.  But  I  made  to  get  past  him  at  one  side, 
crying  to  Maisie  to  try  the  other.  For  I  thought  that  the 
two  of  us  were  surely  a  match  for  any  black  thief  of  the 
kind  to  be  found  in  the  Glenkens. 

"  But  as  I  was  running  by,  he  grippit  me  with  one  hand 
and  drew  his  windlestrae  of  a  sword  wi'  the  other  —  drew  it 
on  a  pair  o'  lassies,  mind  ye.  Then  what  think  ye  ?  Your 
bit  lassie  there,  Missie  Mim,  she  flew  on  him  like  a  wullcat 
and  gripped  the  blade  atween  her  fingers  till  she  drew  it  oot 
o'  his  hand.  Then  she  took  it  across  her  knee  and  garred 
it  play  snap  like  a  rotten  branch.  Syne  ower  it  gaed  intil 
the  water.  And  that  was  the  way  she  got  the  cut  on  her 
hand,  poor  thing." 

Then  I  gave  a  great  shout  and  clasped  Maisie  in  my  arms, 
yet  not  harshly,  lest  she  should  be  weak.  I  was  glad  to  hear 
this  testimony  to  her  bravery. 

"That  is  of  a  better  fashion,"  said  Kate,  like  one  who  has 
store  of  experience.  Then  she  went  on  with  her  story,  for 
she  had  yet  more  to  tell.  "But  the  loon  was  dour  for  a' 
the  want  o'  his  sword,  and  we  micht  no'  hae  mastered  him 
but  that  he  tried  to  trip  us  and  so  got  tripped  himself.  He 
fell  so  that  the  head  o'  him  took  the  wa'  and  fair  dang  him 
stupid.  So  we  e'en  gied  him  a  bit  hoise  an'  ower  he  gaed 
intil  the  water " 

"  Mercy  on  us,"  I  cried,  "ye  didna  droon  the  man?" 

"  Droon  him,"  said  Kate,  "  deil  a  fear !  Yon  chiel  is 
made  for  the  tow.  He'll  droon  nane.  The  last  we  saw  o' 
him,  he  was  sitting  on  his  hurdies  in  the  shallows,  up  to  his 
neck  in  the  water,  trying  what  banes  war  hale  after  his 
stramash. 

"So,"  continued  Kate,  "we  gaed  our  roads  in  peace, 


262  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

and  the  chiel  sat  still  in  the  water,  thrawin'  his  heid  aboot 
and  aboot  like  a  turnspit,  as  lang  as  we  could  see  him." 

Even  thus  Kate  McGhie  told  her  tale,  making  my  lass 
dearer  to  me  with  every  word.  Of  Mardrochat  the  informer, 
who  had  made  bold  to  meddle  with  them,  I  had  heard  many 
times.  He  had  been  a  Covenanter  of  zeal  and  forwardness 
till,  at  a  meeting  of  the  Societies,  his  double-faced  guile 
had  been  laid  bare.  Ever  since  which  day  in  the  wilds  of 
Friarminion,  he  had  been  a  cunning,  spying  fox,  upon  the 
track  of  the  hill-folk.  But  I  knew  how  dangerous  the  man 
could  be,  and  liked  it  ill  enough  that  the  maids  should  have 
crossed  him  so  early  on  their  pilgrimage.  I  doubted  not 
that  it  was  from  him  that  the  original  information  had  come, 
which,  being  carried  to  the  enemy  by  Birsay  and  overheard 
by  me  in  the  house  of  Balmaghie,  had  sent  us  all  hiving  to 
the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE   HOUSE   OF   THE   BLACK   CATS. 

HAVING  bidden  such  good-e'en  to  the  maids  as  was 
severally  due  to  them,  I  crossed  the  Nick  of  the  Gadlach 
and  went  whistling  over  the  moor.  I  took  a  new  road  over 
the  heather,  and  was  just  at  the  turning  of  the  Eglin  Lane, 
when,  deep  in  the  howe  of  the  glen,  I  came  on  the  strangest 
kind  of  cot-house.  It  was  piled  together  of  the  rough 
bowder  stones  of  the  country,  their  edges  undressed  and 
gaping,  the  spaces  between  them  filled  in  with  faggots  of 
heather  and  plastered  with  stiff  bluish  clay  from  the  burn- 
sides.  The  roof  was  of  branches  of  the  fir  trees  long  buried 
in  the  moss,  and  was  thatched  with  heather.  There  was  an 
opening  in  the  middle,  from  which  a  smoke  arose.  And  I 
heard  a  sound  like  singing  from  within  —  a  sound  that  made 
my  flesh  creep. 

I  went  to  the  door  and  with  my  knuckle  knocked  gently, 
as  is  our  fashion  in  that  part  of  the  country,  crying,  "  Are  ye 
within,  good  wife  ?  " 

Whereat  the  strangest  unearthly  voice  answered  back  to 
me,  as  it  had  been  some  one  reading  in  the  Bible  and  laugh- 
ing at  the  same  time  —  a  horrid  thing  to  hear  in  that  still 
place  and  so  near  the  defenceless  young  lassies  in  the 
Bower  of  the  Star. 

"The  waters  of  Meribah — the  waters  of  Meribah  —  for 
they  were  bitter  ! "  it  cried  in  a  kind  of  wail.  "  Come  ben 
and  hae  some  brose  ! "  And  then  the  thing  laughed  again. 

I  took  courage  to  look  within,  but  because  it  was  dark  I 
263 


264  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

saw  nothing.  The  whole  interior  was  full  of  the  smoor  of 
reek,  and  strange  things  sped  round  and  round,  crossing 
each  other  and  passing  the  door  continually,  like  the  staves 
and  buckets  of  a  water-mill  running  round. 

"  Come  awa'  ben,"  again  commanded  the  voice.  "Doon, 
Badrona  !  Peace,  Grimalkin  !  "  The  command  was  addressed 
to  a  number  of  monstrous  black  cats,  which  had  been  speed- 
ing round  the  walls  of  the  cot  like  mad  things,  to  the  music 
of  the  unearthly  crooning  song  which  I  had  heard  from 
within. 

I  stepped  across  the  threshold  and  found  a  red  peat  fire 
upon  the  hearth  and  a  black  pot  hanging  over  it.  I  looked 
about  for  the  person  who  had  addressed  me.  At  first  I 
could  see  him  nowhere.  But  as  my  eyes  grew  accustomed 
to  the  light  I  saw  the  queerest  being — the  sight  of  whom 
made  my  heart  grow  cold  and  my  hand  steal  to  the  little 
pocket  Bible,  bound  in  two  halves,  that  was  in  my  inner 
pocket. 

A  small  square  object  sat  huddled  up  at  the  far  side  of  the 
fire.  Upon  its  head  there  was  a  turban,  like  those  the 
travellers  into  the  lands  of  the  False  Prophet  tell  us  of. 
But  this  turban  was  of  black  bull  hide,  and  the  beast's  dull 
eyes  looked  out  underneath  with  a  hellish  suggestion.  The 
figure  was  squat  like  a  toad,  and  sitting  thus  sunk  down 
upon  itself,  it  seemed  to  be  wholly  destitute  of  feet  and  legs. 
But  a  great  pair  of  hairy  arms  lay  out  upon  the  hearth  and 
sometimes  clawed  together  the  fiery  red  peats,  as  though 
they  had  just  been  casten  and  were  being  fitted  for  drying 
upon  the  moss. 

"Come  awa'  ben.  Ye  are  welcome,  honest  stranger," 
again  said  the  thing  of  the  uncanny  look,  "  I  am  nane 
bonny,  truth  to  tell,  but  I'm  nocht  to  my  mither.  It's  a  braw 
thing  that  ye  are  no'  to  meet  wi'  her  the  nicht.  She  has 
gane  ower  by  to  gather  the  Black  Herb  by  the  licht  o'  the 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  BLACK  CATS.  265 

aval  moon.  When  the  moon  faas  ower  on  her  back  like  a 
sheep  that  canna  rise,  then  is  the  time  to  gather  the  bonny 
Wolfs  Bane,  the  Deil's  Bit,  wi'  the  berries  by  the  water-side 
that  nane  kens  whaur  to  seek,  an'  the  Mandrake  that  cries  like 
a  murdered  'bairn  when  ye  pu'  it  frae  the  moss.  See  ye 
here,  there's  three  dead  bairns  aneath  that  hearthstane.  Gin 
ye  like  I  will  let  ye  see  the  banes.  She  didna  pit  me  there, 
for  the  deil's  wife  has  aye  a  warm  side  to  the  deil's  bairn.  Sit 
ye  doon  and  bide  a  wee.  It's  braw  an'  heartsome  to  see 
a  face  at  Willie's  Shiel  in  the  howe  o'  the  Eglin." 

After  the  first  horrid  surprise  of  coming  in  upon  such  a 
place,  I  saw  that  the  thing  after  all  was  human  —  an  idiot  or 
natural  as  I  judged,  with  a  monstrous  twisted  body  and 
strange  elricht  voice  like  the  crying  of  the  night-wind  in  a 
keyhole.  But  I  thought  it  best  to  sit  down  on  a  seat,  even 
as  he  bade  me,  and  so  I  drew  a  creepie  stool  carelessly 
nearer  to  me  with  one  hand. 

"  Na,  dinna  sit  on  that  —  that's  a  stool  that  naebody  can 
sit  on  but  my  mither." 

And  when  I  looked  at  the  creepie  in  the  red  firelight,  for 
it  felt  strange  to  my  hand,  lo  !  it  was  formed  of  three  skulls 
set  close  together,  and  the  legs  of  it  were  of  men's  leg 
bones. 

Then  it  flashed  to  my  mind  that  I  had  chanced  on  the 
house  of  Corp-licht  Kate,  the  witch  wife  of  the  Star,  who  for 
many  years  dwelt  alone  on  the  flowe  of  the  Eglin,  with  only 
her  idiot  son  with  her  for  company. 

"  Na,"  said  the  object,  "  nane  can  sit  on  that  creepie  but 
the  minnie  o'  me  —  Corp-licht  Kate  o'  the  Star.  It's  weel 
for  me,  an'  it's  weel  for  you,  that  my  minnie's  no'  here  the 
nicht.  But  sit  ye  down  and  tak'  your  rest." 

I  arose  to  flee,  but  the  monstrous  figure  by  the  red  fire 
waved  me  down.  And  I  declare  that  as  I  looked  at  him, 
he  seemed  to  swell  and  glow  with  a  kind  of  brightness  like 


266  THE   MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  moon  through  mist.  He  waved  his  arms  abroad,  and 
immediately  about  me  there  began  the  most  affrighting  tur- 
moil. Black  forms  that  had  been  crouching  in  the  corners 
came  out  and  began  to  circle  round  us,  as  it  appeared  by 
some  devilish  cantrip,  skimming  round  the  house  breast- 
high,  without  ever  touching  the  floor  or  the  walls.  They 
seemed  like  an  army  of  cats,  black  and  unearthly,  all  fly- 
ing in  mid  air,  screeching  and  caterwauling  as  at  a  witch's 
festival.  I  began  to  wonder  if  the  foul,  human-headed, 
toad-like  thing  that  squatted  by  the  fire  were  indeed  the 
black  master  of  witches  himself,  to  whom,  for  my  sins,  I 
had  been  delivered  in  the  flesh  before  my  time. 

But  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  idiot  stilled  the  turmoil, 
and  the  flitting  demons  came  to  the  ground  in  the  shape 
of  a  dozen  or  so  of  cats,  black  and  horrid,  with  arched  tails 
and  fiery  eyes  —  as  wild  to  look  at  as  though  they  had 
wandered  in  from  the  moor.  These  retreated  into  the  dark 
corners  of  the  room,  whence  we  could  hear  them  purring 
and  spitting,  and  see  their  fiery  eyes  set  on  us  in  a  circle  out 
of  the  gloom,  which  was  dense  as  night  everywhere,  save 
only  immediately  about  the  fire. 

"  I  am  nae  deil,  though  ye  think  it,  and  maist  folk  says 
it,"  said  the  idiot,  fixing  his  eyes  xm  me.  "  Some  says  the 
daddie  o'  me  was  the  deil,  and  some  says  Mardrochat.  I 
kenna.  There's  no'  muckle  to  choose  between  them.  Ye 
can  ask  my  mither  gin  ye  like.  I  never  speered  her  mysel'. 
Ye'll  hae  a  sup  o'  my  parritch.  They  are  guid  parritch  — 
no'  like  my  mither's  parritch.  I  wad  advise  ye  to  hae  nocht 
to  do  wi'  my  mither's  parritch.  Heard  ye  ever  o'  the  Hef- 
tero'  the  Star?" 

I  told  him  no,  and  sat  down  to  see  what  might  happen 
in  this  strange  abode  so  near  to  the  two  places  where 
dwelled  those  whom  I  loved  best  —  the  Bower  of  the  Star 
and  the  Cave  of  Macaterick.  But  I  loosened  my  sword  and 
felt  that  the  grip  of  my  pistols  came  easy  to  my  hand. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  BLACK  CATS.  267 

"Be  na  feared  o'  puir  Gash  Gibbie  o'  the  Star  Shelling," 
cried  the  object,  noticing  the  action;  "he's  as  honest  as 
he  is  ugly.  But  keep  wid  o'  the  mither  o'  him,  gin  ye  wad 
scape  the  chiding  of  the  channeling  worm." 

The  natural  seemed  to  read  the  fears  of  my  heart  before 
I  knew  them  myself. 

"Na,  ye'll  no'  dee  like  the  Hefter  o'  the  Star.  He  was 
an  ill  loon,  him;  he  wadna  let  my  mither  be,  when  he  cam 
to  heft  hoggs  in  the  mid  o'  the  year.  He  spied  on  us  as 
he  sat  on  a  hill-tap  to  watch  that  his  sheep  didna  break 
dykes.  But  ken  ye  what  my  mither  did?  She  gaed  oot 
to  him  wi'  a  wee  drap  kail  broth.  Tak'  ye  nane  o'  my 
mither' s  kail  broth.  They  are  no'  canny.  But  the  hefter, 
silly  body,  took  mair  o'  them  than  he  was  the  better  o'. 
He  took  them  doon  in  a  bit  hollow  to  be  oot  o'  the  wind, 
and  when  they  fand  him,  he  had  manned  it  to  crawl  back 
to  his  watcher's  hill-tap.  But  there  the  silly,  feckless  loon 
died  like  a  trout  on  the  bank.  He  didna  like  my  mither 's 
broth.  Na,  they  didna  gree  weel  wi'  him !  " 

And  Gash  Gibbie  went  on  yammering  and  grumbling, 
while  I  sat  and  gazed  dumbfounded  at  him,  and  at  the 
ugly  grimalkins  in  the  dark  corners,  which  stared  at  me 
with  shining  eyes,  till  I  wished  myself  well  out  of  it  all. 

"  An'  ken  ye  what  my  mither  said  when  the  next  hefter 
cam  to  see  after  his  sheep  on  the  hill?  " 

I  shook  my  head. 

"She  said,  'Watna  grand  ploy  it  wad  be  gin  this  yin  were 
to  die  as  weel ! '  That  was  what  my  mither  said." 

"And  did  he  die?"  I  asked. 

Gash  Gibbie  moved  his  shoulders,  and  made  a  kind  of 
nickering  laugh  to  himself,  like  a  young  horse  whinnying 
for  its  corn. 

"Na,  he  was  ower  cunning  for  my  minnie,  him.  He 
wadna  bide  here,  and  when  my  minnie  gaed  to  him  with 


268  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  guid  kail  broo  and  the  braxy  scorning  amang  it,  says 
the  second  hefter,  'I'm  no'  that  hungry  the  day,  mistress; 
I'll  gie  the  hoodie  craws  a  drap  drink  o't! ' 

"  And  so  he  did,  and  as  fast  as  the  craws  got  twa  fills  o' 
their  nebs,  they  keeled  ower  on  their  backs,  drew  in  their 
taes  three  times,  cried  kraigh,  and  tumbled  heels  up,  as 
stiff  as  Methusala!  Richt  curious,  was  it  na?  She  is  a 
wonnerfu'  woman,  my  mither !  " 

The  thunder  clouds  which  had  been  forming  all  through 
the  heat  of  the  afternoon,  began  to  roar  far  away  by  Loch 
Doon,  and  as  the  place  and  the  talk  did  not  conduce  to 
pleasant  thoughts,  I  rose  to  go. 

"  What's  your  hurry?  "  cried  Gash  Gibbie,  swinging  him- 
self round  to  my  side  of  the  fire,  and  lifting  himself  on  his 
hands  like  a  man  that  has  no  feet.  "  My  minnie  will  no' 
be  here  till  the  mornin',  and  then  we'll  hae  company 
belike.  For  she's  gane  to  warn  Mardrochat  to  send  the 
sodgers  to  the  twa  run-awa'  lassies  up  at  the  bit  bouroch 
on  the  Meaull  o'  Garryhorn." 

"To  bring  the  soldiers?  "  I  said,  for  the  words  made  me 
suddenly  afraid. 

"Aye,"  said  the  natural,  looking  cunningly  at  me,  "an* 
Gash  Gibbie  wad  hae  warned  the  bits  o'  lassies.  But  he's 
ower  gruesome  a  tyke  to  be  welcome  guest  in  lady's  bower. 
But  Gibbie  wishes  the  lassies  no  harm.  They  are  clever, 
well-busked  hizzies." 

"  I  wonder  if  there  are  any  more  wanderers  in  hiding 
hereabouts,"  said  I,  thinking  in  my  transparent  guile  to 
find  out  whether  the  Cove  Macaterick  were  also  known. 

"  Na,  na,  nane  nearer  than  the  Caldons  in  the  Howe  o' 
Trool.  There's  some  o'  Peden's  folk  there  that  my  mither 
has  put  her  spite  on  —  but  nane  nearer." 

The  thunder  and  lightning  was  just  coming  on,  as  I 
passed  the  ring  of  cats  in  the  outer  darkness  of  the  hut, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  BLACK  CATS.  269 

and  looked  out.  "Good  night  to  ye,  Gibbie,"  said  I, 
"and  thank  ye  kindly  for  your  crack  and  the  warming  I 
hae  gotten  before  the  fire ! " 

"Guid-e'en  to  yoursel',  bonny  laddie,  an'  a  guid  journey 
to  ye.  It's  gaun  to  be  a  coorse  nicht,  and  Gibbie  maun 
gang  awa'  ower  the  heather  to  see  gin  his  bonny  mither 
doesna'  miss  the  road  hame !  " 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  NICK  O'    THE  DEED  WIFE. 

I  WENT  out,  and  the  whole  night  seemed  empty  about  me. 
The  deep  and  wide  basin  between  the  hollow  palms  of  the 
hills  was  filled  with  an  eery  leme  of  flame,  flickering  up 
from  the  ground. 

I  took  my  way  with  as  great  strides  as  I  could  compass, 
back  to  the  bower  under  the  trees.  The  thunder  rolled 
continuously  about  and  about.  At  times  it  seemed  to 
recede  far  away,  but  always  sounding  from  different  places, 
as  though  many  peals  were  running  races  one  with  the  other. 
Then  the  lightning  flickered,  and  keen  little  arrows  sped 
hither  and  thither  till  the  whole  sky  twanged  like  a  harp. 

It  seemed  a  hundred  miles  to  the  shieling  on  the  hill. 
And  when  I  came  near  I  was  astonished  and  greatly 
affrighted  to  hear  the  sound  of  voices,  and  at  least  one 
of  them  the  voice  of  a  man.  A  strange  fear  came  over 
me;  hardly,  I  think,  the  fear  of  the  King's  men. 

"I  hae  brocht  wi'  me  my  silver  spune,"  said  a  voice  that 
went  to  my  heart;  "  I  made  siccar  o'  my  silver  spoon.  Gin 
I  hae  to  gang  to  the  heather  for  the  Covenant,  at  least  I 
shall  gang  as  a  lady !  " 

It  was  my  mother's  voice,  and  I  ran  down  to  her,  falling 
into  her  arms,  and  bidding  her  to  be  quiet  in  the  same 
breath. 

Wat  had  just  arrived  with  my  mother  and  little  Margaret 
of  Glen  Vernock,  who,  winding  herself  about  all  our  hearts, 
had  become  as  her  own  child  to  my  mother  in  the  days  of 

270 


THE  NICK  O'   THE  DEID  WIFE.  271 

her  loneliness.  They  were  weary  and  in  need  of  rest; 
but  when  I  had  told  my  news  and  the  warning  I  had  gotten 
from  Gash  Gibbie  in  the  fearsome  precincts  of  the  hut  of 
Corp-licht  Kate,  every  one  felt  the  need  of  at  once  forsak- 
ing the  Bower  of  the  Star  and  betaking  ourselves  to  Cove 
Macaterick  —  which,  if  not  so  pleasant  or  commodious,  was 
at  least  far  more  safe. 

So  we  loaded  us  with  Hugh  Kerr's  meal,  and  the  little 
bits  of  things  that  the  lassies  had  gathered  about  them  or 
brought  with  them.  My  mother  carried  only  an  oaken 
staff  in  her  hand,  and  in  a  satchel  at  her  girdle  her  beloved 
silver  spoon  (with  "Mary  Hope  "  on  it  in  antique  letters), 
which  her  father  had  given  her  for  her  own  when  she 
learned  to  read,  and  first  took  her  place  at  the  table  above 
the  salt. 

"  O  what  wad  he  hae  said,  that  was  Lord  President  of 
Session  in  his  time,  gin  he  had  seen  his  dochter  Mary 
linkin'  ower  the  heather  wi'  her  coats  kilted  in  her  auld 
age?"  my  mother  cried  out  once  when  we  hurried  her. 
For  she  had  ever  a  great  notion  of  her  lineage  —  though 
indeed  the  Hopes  are  nothing  to  compare  with  the  Gor- 
dons for  antiquity  or  distinction. 

"I  think  your  father  was  'at  the  horn1  mair  nor  yince 
himsel',  mither,"  said  I,  remembering  certain  daffing  talk 
of  my  father's. 

"Aye,  and  that  is  just  as  true,"  said  my  mother,  recon- 
ciling herself  to  her  position,  "  f orbye  it  is  weel  kenned  that 
the  wife  aye  wears  the  cockade  of  her  lord." 

And  at  the  word  I  thought  of  my  Lady  of  Lochinvar,  and 
hearkened  to  Wat  talking  low  to  Kate  McGhie.  But  as 
for  me  I  kept  my  mother  by  my  side,  and  left  Maisie  Len- 
nox to  herself,  remembering  the  fifth  commandment  — 
and  knowing  likewise  that  it  would  please  Maisie  best  if  I 
took  care  of  my  mother. 


272  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Thus  we  came  to  Cove  Macaterick. 

Now  the  cove  upon  the  hillside  is  not  wet  and  chill  as 
almost  all  sea  caves  are,  where  the  water  stands  on  the  floor 
and  drips  from  every  crevice.  But  it  was  at  least  fairly 
dry,  if  not  warm,  and  had  been  roughly  laid  with  bog-wood 
dug  from  the  flowes,  not  squared  at  all,  but  only  filled  in 
with  heather  tops  till  the  floor  was  elastic  like  the  many- 
plied  carpets  of  Whitehall. 

There  was,  as  I  have  said,  an  inner  and  an  outer  cave, 
one  opening  out  of  the  other,  each  apartment  being  about 
sixteen  feet  every  way,  but  much  higher  towards  the  roof. 
And  so  it  remained  till  late  years,  when,  as  I  hear  from  the 
herd  of  the  Shalloch,  the  rocks  of  the  gairy  face  have  set- 
tled more  down  upon  themselves,  and  so  have  contracted 
the  space.  But  the  cave  remains  to  this  day  on  the  Back 
Hill  of  the  Star  over  the  waters  of  Loch  Macaterick.  And 
the  place  is  still  very  lonely.  Only  the  whaups,  the  ernes, 
and  the  mountain  sheep  cry  there,  even  as  they  did  in  our 
hiding  times. 

We  gave  the  inner  (and  higher)  room  to  the  women  folk, 
and  divided  the  space  with  a  plaid  hung  up  at  the  stone 
steps  which  formed  a  doorway. 

We  found  Anton  Lennox  much  recovered,  but  still  very 
weak  and  pale.  He  sat  propped  up  on  his  heather  bed 
against  the  side  of  the  cave.  His  countenance  appeared 
stern  and  warlike,  even  when  it  was  too  dark  to  see,  as  it 
mostly  was,  his  great  sword  leaning  against  the  wall  by  his 
side. 

I  need  not  tell  of  the  joy  there  was  when  Maisie  Lennox 
greeted  her  father,  and  we  that  had  been  so  wide  scattered 
drew  together  once  again.  But  as  soon  as  I  had  told  Wat 
of  the  happenings  at  the  hut  of  Corp-licht  Kate,  nothing 
would  serve  him  but  we  must  set  out  and  try  to  intercept 
the  witch  from  fulfilling  her  mission.  For  if  she  brought 


THE  NICK  0'  THE  DEID  WIFE.  273 

the  soldiers  upon  us,  our  trail  from  the  bower  among  the 
trees  was  fresh  and  might  be  followed.  Wat  was  deter- 
mined at  all  costs  to  turn  the  witch;  and,  having  brought 
her  to  her  house,  to  keep  a  watch  upon  her  there  —  at  least 
till  the  rain  had  washed  away  our  foot-prints  down  the 
mountain  side,  and  confused  them  among  the  moss-hags. 

So  leaving  most  unwillingly  the  snug  and  sheltered  place 
of  Cove  Macaterick,  we  stepped  out  into  the  gloomy  and 
threatening  night.  The  wild-fire  still  flickered,  and  the 
thunder  rolled  continuously;  but  the  rain  held  off.  The 
natural  had  mentioned  that  his  mother  was  making  over 
the  hills  toward  Straiten,  where  for  the  time  being  Mar- 
drochat,  the  informer,  dwelt,  and  where  was  quartered  a 
troop  of  horse  for  the  overawing  of  the  country. 

We  decided,  therefore,  that  we  should  take  our  course  in 
that  direction,  which  led  past  Peden's  hut,  where  the  wan- 
derer had  abode  so  often.  It  was  an  uncanny  night,  but 
in  some  fashion  we  stumbled  along  —  now  falling  into 
moss-hags  almost  to  the  waist,  and  now  scrambling  out 
again,  and  so  on  without  a  word  of  complaining.  Wat's 
attire  was  not  now  such  as  that  he  had  donned  to  visit  my 
Lady  Wellwood.  It  was  but  of  stout  hodden  grey  and  a 
checked  plaid  like  the  rest. 

So  we  mounted  shoulder  after  shoulder  of  heathery  hill- 
side, like  vessels  that  labour  over  endless  billows  of  the  sea 
against  a  head  wind.  The  thunder  cloud  which  seemed  to 
brood  upon  the  outer  circle  of  the  hills,  and  arch  over  the 
country  of  Macaterick  and  the  Star,  now  grumbled  nearer 
and  louder.  Not  seldom  there  came  a  fierce,  white,  wim- 
pling  flash,  and  the  encompassing  mountains  seemed  ready 
to  burn  up  in  the  glare.  Then  ensued  darkness  blacker 
than  ever,  and  the  thunder  shaking  the  world,  as  though  it 
had  been  an  ill-builded  house-place  with  skillets  and  pans 
clattering  on  the  wall. 


274  THE  MEN   OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

We  had  been  thus  walking  for  some  while,  bearing  breast 
to  the  brae  all  the  time,  and  leaning  forward  even  as  a 
horse  leans  to  its  collar.  We  came  in  time  near  to  the 
height  of  the  pass.  We  could  not  see  a  yard  before  us. 
But  suddenly  we  felt  the  ground  begin  to  level  in  front; 
and  lo !  in  a  moment  we  were  in  the  throat  of  the  defile, 
with  the  hills  black  above  us  on  either  side.  Suddenly 
there  came  a  terrible  white  flash  of  lightning,  brighter  and 
longer  continued  than  any  we  had  seen.  The  very  air 
seemed  to  grow  blue-black  like  indigo.  The  thunder 
tore  the  heavens,  galloping  without  ceasing.  Flash  fol- 
lowed rending  flash.  Immediately  before  us  on  a  hillock 
we  saw  a  wondrous  sight.  There  sat  Gash  Gibbie,  the 
mis-shaped  idiot,  crouched  squat  like  a  toad,  at  the  head 
of  a  woman  who  lay  with  her  arms  straight  at  her  sides,  as 
though  stretched  for  burial. 

As  we  stood  illumined  against  the  murky  blackness  of 
the  pass,  the  monstrous  thing  caught  sight  of  us,  and  waved 
his  hands,  dancing  meantime  (as  it  seemed)  upon  spindles 
of  legs.  How  he  had  come  so  far  and  so  swiftly  on  such 
a  night  I  cannot  tell.  But  without  doubt,  there  he  was 
on  the  highest  rock  of  the  pass,  with  the  dead  woman 
stretched  at  his  feet,  and  the  fitful  blue  gleam  of  the  light- 
ning playing  about  him.  And  I  warrant  you  it  was  not  a 
comely  or  a  canny  sight. 

"Come  ye  here,"  cried  the  idiot  lad,  wavering  above  us 
as  though  he  were  dancing  in  the  reek  of  the  nether  pit, 
"  an'  see  what  Yon  has  done  to  my  mither.  I  aye  telled 
her  how  it  wad  be.  It  doesna  do  to  strive  wi'  Yon. 
For  Yon  can  gie  ye  your  paiks  so  brave  and  easy.  But  my 
mither,  she  wad  never  hear  reason,  and  so  there  she  lies, 
dead  streeked  in  the  'Nick  o'  the  Deid  Wife.'  YON  has 
riven  the  life  frae  my  mither! " 

We  were  close  at  his  side  by  this  time,  and  we  saw  an 


THE  NICK  O'   THE  DEID   WIFE.  275 

irksome  sight,  that  shook  our  nerves  more  than  the  thun- 
der. A  woman  of  desperately  evil  countenance  lay  looking 
past  us,  her  eyes  fixed  with  an  expression  of  bitter  wrath 
and  scorn  upon  the  black  heavens.  Her  face  and  hands 
were  stained  of  a  deep  crimson  colour,  either  by  the  visi- 
tation of  God  or  made  to  seem  so  by  the  flickering  flame  of 
wild-fire  that  played  about  us. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

THE  VENGEANCE  OF   "YON." 

GASH  GIBBIE  surveyed  the  sight  with  a  kind  of  twisted 
satisfaction.  He  went  hirpling  about  the  body  round  and 
round.  He  squatted  with  crossed  legs  at  its  head. 

"What  think  ye  o'  that?"  he  asked,  "that's  my  mither. 
She's  near  as  bonny  as  me,  think  ye  no?  Yon  micht  hae 
made  her  bonnier  to  look  at,  gin  He  was  to  be  so  ill  to 
her." 

And  the  monster  crouched  still  lower,  and  took  the 
terrible  scarlet-stained  face  and  neck  on  his  knees. 

"  Mither !  mither ! "  he  wailed,  "  I  aye  telled  ye  it  wad 
come  to  this  —  mockin'  Yon  disna  do.  A  wee  while, 
maybe,  He  lets  ye  gang  on;  but  no  for  lang!  Yon  can 
bide  His  time,  and  juist  when  ye  are  crawin'  croose,  and 
thinkin'  on  how  blythe  and  canty  ye  are  —  blaff!  like  a 
flaught  o'  fire  —  Yon  comes  upon  ye,  and  where  are  ye?" 

He  took  a  long  and  apparently  well-satisfied  look  at  his 
mother. 

"Aye,  there  ye  lie,  an'  by  my  faith,  ye  are  no  bonny, 
mither  o'  mine.  Mony  is  the  time  I  telled  ye  what  it  wad 
be,  afore  Yon  had  dune  wi'  ye." 

Small  wonder  that  it  chilled  our  blood  to  hear  the  twisted 
being  cry  out  thus  upon  the  mother  that  bore  him.  He 
seemed  even  no  little  pleased  that  what  he  had  foretold 
had  come  to  pass.  So  we  stood,  Wat  and  I,  in  silent 
amaze  before  him,  as  the  storm  continued  to  blare  till  the 
whole  heaven  above  us  appeared  but  the  single  mouth  of  a 
black  trumpet. 

276 


THE  VENGEANCE  OF  "YON."  277 

Sometimes  we  seemed  to  be  in  a  large  place,  ribbed  and 
rafted  with  roaring  sound,  upholstered  with  lightning  flashes 
of  pale  violet  and  blue.  Then  again  the  next  moment  we 
were  shut  within  a  tent  of  velvet  blackness  like  a  pall,  with 
only  the  echoes  of  the  warring  midnight  rolling  away  back 
among  the  hills.  There  seemed  no  God  of  Pity  abroad 
that  night  to  look  after  puir  muir-wandered  folk,  but  only 
mocking  devils  riding  rough-shod  on  the  horses  of  the  pit. 

"Come  away  name,  Gibbie,"  said  I,  "ye  can  do  her 
little  good.  I  fear  she's  by  wi'  it!  " 

"By  wi'  it!"  quoth  the  natural,  fleeringly.  "Na,  only 
beginning  wi'  it.  D'ye  no  ken,  hill-man-wi'-the-hirpling- 
leg,  that  Yon  has  gotten  her.  I  can  see  her  stannin'  afore 
Yon,  wi'  her  face  like  red  fire,  a  black  lie  in  her  mouth 
and  ill-intent  in  her  heart.  For  as  the  tree  falls,  so  doth 
it  lie." 

The  imp  seemed  to  have  gotten  the  words  at  some  field- 
preaching. 

"Think  ye  I  didna  warn  her? "  he  went  on.  "My  braw 
chiels,  ye  hae  gotten  your  warnin'  this  nicht !  Meddle  na 
wi'  Yon,  neither  dare  Him  to  His  face  lest  He  be  angry. 
For  juist  like  Gibbie  killin'  a  speckly  taed,  Yon  can  set 
His  heel  on  ye !  " 

He  stroked  the  hair  off  the  dead  woman's  brow  with  a 
hand  like  a  hairy  claw. 

"Aye,  an'  ye  were  na  sic  an  ill  mither  to  me,  though  ye 
selled  yoursel'  to  Ye-Ken-Wha !  Whatna  steer  there  is  up 
there  aboot  the  soul  o'  ae  puir  auld  body.  Hear  till 
it " 

And  he  waved  his  hands  to  the  four  airts  of  heaven,  and 
called  us  to  hearken  to  the  hills  shaking  themselves  to 
pieces.  "  Siccan  a  steer  aboot  a  puir  feckless  auld  woman 
gaun  to  her  ain  ill  place !  I  wonder  Yon  is  no'  shamed  o' 
himsel' ! " 


278  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

And  the  twisted  man-thing  put  his  hands  to  his  brow  and 
pressed  the  palms  upon  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  the 
unceasing  pulsing  of  the  lightning  and  the  roar  of  the 
anger  of  God  breaking  like  sea  upon  the  mountains. 

"Sae  muckle  squandered  for  sae  little  —  an'  after  a'  but 
little  pleasure  in  the  thing!  I  dinna  see  what  there  is  in 
the  Black  Man's  service  to  mak'  siccan  a  brag  aboot.  Gin 
ye  sup  tasty  kail  wi'  him  in  the  forenicht,  he  aye  caa's 
roond  wi'  the  lawin'  i'  the  mornin' ! 

"  Losh !  Losh !  Sae  muckle  for  sae  little.  I  declare  I 
will  cut  oot  the  three  marks  that  my  mither  made  on  me, 
and  gang  doon  to  Peden  at  the  Shalloch.  I  want  na  mair 
sic  wark  as  this!  Na,  though  I  was  born  wi'  the  Black 
Man's  livery  on  me! 

"Preserve  us!"  he  cried.  "This  is  as  fearsome  as  that 
year  there  was  nae  meat  in  the  hoose,  and  Gash  Gibbie 
brocht  some  back,  and  aye  brocht  it,  and  brocht  it  even  as 
it  was  needed.  And  Kate  o'  the  Corp-licht,  she  readied 
it  and  asked  nae  quastions.  But  only  tearin'  belly-hunger 
gied  us  strength  to  eat  that  awesome  meat.  An'  a'  the 
neighbours  died  o'  starvation  at  Tonskeen  and  the  Star  an' 
the  bonny  Hill  o'  the  Buss  —  a'  but  Gib  an'  his  mither, 
their  leevin'  lanes.  But  yae  nicht  Yon  sent  Gibbie' s  sin 
to  find  him  oot ;  or  maybe  the  Black  Thing  in  the  Hole  gat 
lowse,  because  it  was  his  hour. 

"And  at  ony  rate  puir  Gibbie  gat  a  terrible  fricht  that 
nicht. 

"Wad  ye  like  to  hear?  Aweel,  puir  Gibbie  was  lying  on 
his  bed  up  that  stair,  an'  what  think  ye  there  cam'  to  him?  " 

He  paused  and  looked  at  us  with  a  countenance  so 
blanched  and  terrible  that  almost  we  turned  and  ran.  For 
the  lightning  played  upon  it  till  it  seemed  to  glow  with 
unholy  light,  and  that  not  from  without  but  from  within. 
It  was  the  most  terrifying  thing  to  be  alone  with  such  a 


THE   VENGEANCE  OF  "YON."  279 

monstrous  living  creature,  and  such  a  dead  woman  in  the 
lonesome  place  he  had  called  the  "  Nick  of  the  Deid  Wife. " 
What  with  the  chattering  of  our  teeth,  the  agitation  of  our 
spirits,  and  the  flicker  of  the  fire,  the  old  dead  witch 
seemed  actually  to  rise  and  nod  at  us. 

"So  Gash  Gibbie,  puir  man,  lay  and  listened  in  his 
naked  bed,  for  he  had  gotten  his  fill  that  nicht,  though  a' 
the  lave  were  hungry  —  an'  that  o'  his  ain  providin'.  But 
as  he  lay  sleepless,  he  heard  a  step  come  to  the  door,  the 
sneck  lifted  itseP,  an'  a  foot  that  wasna  his  mither's  came 
into  the  passage,  dunt-duntirt  like  a  lameter  hirplin'  on 
two  staves ! 

"An'  then  there  cam'  a  hard  footstep  on  the  stair,  and 
a  rattle  o'  fearsome-like  Sounds,  as  the  thing  cam'  up  the 
ladder.  Gibbie  kenned  na  what  it  micht  be.  An'  when 
the  door  opened  an'  the  man  wi'  the  wooden  feet  cam'  in 
—  preserve  me,  but  he  was  a  weary-lookin'  tyke. 

"'Whaur  came  ye  frae? '  says  puir  Gash  Gibbie. 

"'Frae  the  Grave! '  says  he.  He  hadna  muckle  to  say, 
but  his  e'en  war  like  fiery  gimblets  in  his  head. 

"'What  mak's  your  e'en  bones  sae  white  an'  deep? ' 

"  'The  Grave ! '  says  he.  He  hadna  muckle  to  say,  but 
he  spak'  aye  mair  dour  and  wearisome  than  ever. 

"'What  mak's  ye  lauch  sae  wide  at  puir  Gibbie?  ' 

"  'The  Grave ! '  says  he.  He  hadna  muckle  to  say,  but 
syne  he  steppit  nearer  nearer  to  the  bedside. 

"'What  made  that  great  muckle  hole  in  your  side?  ' 

"'You  made  it!'  cried  the  ghaist,  loupin'  at  Gibbie's 
throat;  an'  puir  Gib  kenned  nae  mair." 

And  even  as  the  monster  shouted  out  the  last  words  — 
the  words  of  the  spectre  of  his  cannibal  vision  —  Gash 
Gibbie  seemed  to  us  to  dilate  and  lean  forward  to  spring 
upon  us.  The  wild-fire  reeled  about  as  though  the  very 
elements  were  drunken,  and  Wat  and  I  fairly  turned  and 


280  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

fled,  shouting  insanely  with  terror  as  we  ran  —  leaving  the 
silent  stricken  witch  with  the  face  of  blood,  and  the  mis- 
shapen elf,  her  hell's  brood  progeny,  raving  and  shouting 
on  the  hillside  —  these  two  alone  at  midnight  in  the  "  Nick 
of  the  Deid  Wife." 

"Aye,  rin,  rin,"  we  heard  him  call  after  us.  "Rin  fast, 
and  Yon  will  maybe  no'  catch  ye  —  till  it  is  your  hour !  " 

And  truly  Wat  and  I  did  run  in  earnest,  stumbling  and 
crying  out  in  our  terror  —  now  falling  and  now  getting  up, 
then  falling  to  the  running  again  without  a  single  reason- 
able word.  But  as  we  came  hot-foot  over  the  Rig  of  Loch- 
ricaur,  we  seemed  to  run  into  the  sheeted  rain.  For  where 
we  had  been  hitherto,  only  the  blue  dry  fire  had  ringed  us, 
but  here  we  ran  into  a  downpour  as  though  the  fountains  of 
the  deep  of  heaven  had  broken  up  and  were  falling  in  a 
white  spate  upon  the  world. 

We  were  wet,  weary,  and  terrified,  more  than  we  had 
ever  been  in  our  lives,  before  we  reached  the  hermitage  of 
the  cave  of  Macaterick.  There  we  found  the  women  wait- 
ing for  us,  listening  fearfully  to  the  roar  of  the  storm  with- 
out, and  hearkening  in  the  lown  blinks  to  Auld  Anton 
Lennox  praying  —  while  the  lightning  seemed  to  run  into 
the  cave,  and  shine  on  the  blade  of  the  sword  he  held 
gripped  in  his  right  hand.  So  we  stripped  our  wet  clothes, 
and  lay  in  the  outer  place  all  the  night,  where  there  was  a 
fire  of  red  peats,  while  the  women  withdrew  themselves  into 
their  inner  sanctuary.  I  could  see  the  anxiety  in  their 
eyes  when  we  came  in,  for  they  could  not  but  discern  the 
ghastly  terror  in  our  faces.  But  without  any  agreement 
between  ourselves,  Wat  and  I  silently  resolved  that  we 
should  not  acquaint  any  of  the  party  with  the  hideous  judg- 
ments of  that  night,  to  which  we  had  been  eye-witnesses. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A  DESIRABLE   GENERAL   MEETING. 

THE  next  morning  dawned  colder  and  more  chilly.  The 
catch  of  the  autumn  of  the  year  was  in  the  air,  and  it  nipped 
shrewdly  till  the  sun  looked  over  the  hills  in  the  east.  This 
was  to  be  the  great  day  of  the  Societies'  general  meeting, 
which  had  been  summoned  in  the  wilds  of  Shalloch-on- 
Minnoch.* 

*  Now,  because  men  so  readily  forget,  I  may  repeat  how  that  the  United 
Societies  had  grown  in  strength  since  Ayrsmoss,  and  now  needed  only  a 
head  to  make  a  stand  for  the  cause.  It  was  a  strange  way  of  the  Provi- 
dence of  God,  that  it  should  come  about  that  these  little  meetings  for  prayer 
in  remote  places  of  the  land,  should  grow  to  be  so  mighty  a  power  for  the 
pulling  down  of  strongholds.  At  this  time,  though  every  appearance  in 
arms  had  been  put  down  at  Pentland,  at  Bothwell,  and  at  Ayrsmoss,  yet  the 
Blue  Banner  itself  had  never  been  put  down.  And  even  now  many  a 
Malignant  in  the  south  and  west  trembled  at  the  great  and  terrible  name  of 
the  "  Seven  Thousand." 

The  proclamations  of  the  Societies,  which  were  affixed  to  every  kirk  door 
and  market  cross  in  the  south,  caused  many  a  persecutor  and  evil-wisher  to 
quake  and  be  silent.  And  the  word  that  God  was  building  for  Himself  a 
folk  on  the  hills  of  Scotland  reached  even  to  the  Low  Countries,  and  kept 
the  Prince  of  Orange  and  his  counsellors  watching  with  eager  eyes  those 
things  which  were  done  by  the  Remnant  over  seas,  till  the  appointed 
hour  should  come.  Heading  and  hanging  would  not  last  for  ever,  and 
such  is  the  binding  power  of  persecution  that  for  each  one  cut  off  by  prison, 
or  the  hangman's  cord,  ten  were  sworn  in  to  do  the  will  of  the  Societies. 
Till  this  present  time  most  fatal  dissension  and  division  among  themselves 
had  been  their  undoing.  But  there  was  one  coming,  now  a  willow  wand  of 
a  student  of  Groningen  in  Holland,  who  should  teach  the  Societies  to  be  a 
wall  of  fire  about  their  faith  and  their  land. 

To  their  conventions  came  commissioners  from  all  parts  of  Scotland,  but 
mainly  from  the  southern  and  western  shires,  as  well  as  from  the  Merse, 
and  out  of  the  bounds  of  Fife. 

281 


282  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Though  the  morn  had  dawned  caller,  with  a  white  rime  of 
frost  lying  on  the  grass  and  for  a  little  space  making  grey  the 
leaves  of  the  trees,  the  day  of  the  great  conventicle  was  one 
of  great  and  lowering  heat.  My  mother  was  set  to  go  —  and 
Kate  McGhie  also.  Wat  must  needs  therefore  accompany 
them,  and  I  had  a  letter  from  Groningen  which  I  behoved 
to  read.  With  Anton  Lennox,  stout  of  heart  even  in  his 
sickness,  abode  my  lass,  Maisie  Lennox — of  whom  (though 
I  looked  to  be  back  on  the  morrow)  I  took  leave  with  reluc- 
tance and  with  a  heavy  and  sinking  heart. 

For  us  who  were  used  to  making  a  herd's  track  across  the 
hills,  it  was  not  a  long  step  over  the  moors  from  Macaterick 
to  the  foot  of  the  Craigfacie  of  Shalloch,  where  the  General 
Meeting  of  the  Societies  was  to  take  place.  But  it  was  a 
harder  matter  for  my  mother. 

She  needed  help  over  every  little  brink  of  a  peat  brow, 
and  as  we  passed  Tonskeen,  where  there  is  a  herd's  house 
in  the  wild,  far  from  man  and  very  quiet  with  God,  I  ran  to 
get  her  a  staff,  which  the  shepherd's  good  wife  gladly  gave. 
For  there  was  little  that  would  be  refused  to  a  wanderer  in 
these  parts,  when  on  his  way  to  the  Societies'  Meeting. 

Soon  we  left  the  strange,  unsmiling  face  of  Loch  Maca- 
terick behind,  and  took  our  way  towards  the  rocky  clint,  up 
which  we  had  to  climb.  We  went  by  the  rocks  that  are 
called  the  Rig  of  Carclach,  where  there  is  a  pass  less  steep 
than  in  other  places,  up  to  the  long  wild  moor  of  the  Shal- 
loch-on-Minnoch.  It  was  a  weary  job  getting  my  mother  up 
the  steep  face  of  the  gairy,  for  she  had  so  many  nick-nacks 
to  carry,  and  so  many  observes  to  make. 

But  when  we  got  to  the  broad  plain  top  of  the  Shalloch 

So  grateful  and  inspiring  were  these  gatherings,  that  many  went  to  their 
death  recalling  the  grace  and  beauty  of  these  meetings  —  "  desirable  general 
meetings  "  —  they  were  in  deed  and  sooth,  at  least  as  I  remember  them.  — 
(W.  G.,  Afton,  1702.) 


A  DESIRABLE  GENERAL  MEETING.  283 

Hill  it  was  easier  to  go  forward,  though  at  first  the  ground 
was  boggy,  so  that  we  took  off  our  stockings  and  walked  on 
the  driest  part.  We  left  the  burn  of  Knocklach  on  our  left 
—  playing  at  keek-bogle  among  the  heather  and  bent  — 
now  standing  stagnant  in  pools,  now  rindling  clear  over  slaty 
stones,  and  again  disappearing  altogether  underground  like 
a  hunted  Covenanter. 

As  soon  as  we  came  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  we  could 
see  the  folk  gathering.  It  was  wonderful  to  watch  them. 
Groups  of  little  black  dots  moved  across  the  green  meadows 
in  which  the  farmsteading  of  the  Shalloch-on-Minnoch  was 
set — a  cheery  little  house,  well  thatched,  and  with  a  pew  of 
blue  smoke  blowing  from  its  chimney,  telling  of  warm  hearts 
within.  Over  the  short  brown  heather  of  the  tops  the  groups 
of  wanderers  came,  even  as  we  were  doing  ourselves  —  past 
the  lonely  copse  at  the  Rowantree,  by  the  hillside  track  from 
Straiton,  up  the  little  runlet  banks  where  the  heather  was 
blushing  purple,  they  wended  their  ways,  all  setting  towards 
one  place  in  the  hollow.  There  already  was  gathered  a 
black  cloud  of  folk  under  the  rickle  of  stones  that  runs  slid- 
ingly  down  from  the  steep  brow  of  Craigfacie. 

As  we  drew  nearer  we  could  see  the  notable  Session 
Stone,  a  broad  flat  stone  overhanging  the  little  pourie  burn 
that  tinkles  and  lingers  among  the  slaty  rocks,  now  shining 
bone-white  in  the  glare  of  the  autumn  sun.  I  never  saw  a 
fairer  place,  for  the  heights  about  are  good  for  sheep,  and 
all  the  other  hills  distant  and  withdrawn.  It  has  not, 
indeed,  the  eye-taking  glorious  beauty  of  the  glen  of  Trool, 
but  nevertheless  it  looked  a  very  Sabbath  land  of  benedic- 
tion and  peace  that  day  of  the  great  Societies'  Meeting. 

Upon  the  Session  Stone  the  elders  were  already  greeting 
one  another,  mostly  white-headed  men  with  dinted  and  fur- 
rowed faces,  bowed  and  broken  by  long  sojourning  among 
the  moss-hags  and  the  caves. 


284  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

When  we  came  to  the  place  we  found  the  folk  gathering 
for  prayer,  before  the  conference  of  the  chosen  delegates 
of  the  societies.  The  women  sat  on  plaids  that  had  been 
folded  for  comfort.  Opposite  the  Session  Stone  was  a  wide 
heathery  amphitheatre,  where,  as  on  tiers  of  seats,  rows  of 
men  and  women  could  sit  and  listen  to  the  preachers.  The 
burnie's  voice  filled  up  the  breaks  in  the  speech,  as  it  ran 
small  and  black  with  the  drought,  under  the  hollow  of  the 
bank.  For,  as  is  usual  upon  our  moors,  the  rain  and  storm 
of  the  night  had  not  reached  this  side  of  the  hill. 

I  sat  down  on  a  lichened  stone  and  looked  at  the  grave, 
well-armed  men  who  gathered  fast  about  the  Session  Stone, 
and  on  the  delegates'  side  of  the  water.  It  was  a  fitting 
place  for  such  a  gathering,  for  only  from  the  lonely  brown 
hills  above  could  the  little  cup  of  Conventicle  be  seen,  nes- 
tling in  the  lap  of  the  hill.  And  on  all  the  moor  tops  that 
looked  every  way,  couching  torpid  and  drowsed  in  the  hot 
sun,  were  to  be  seen  the  sentinels —  pacing  the  heather  like 
watchmen  going  round  and  telling  the  towers  of  Zion,  the 
sun  flashing  on  their  pikes  and  musket  barrels  as  they  turned 
sharply,  like  men  well-disciplined. 

The  only  opening  was  to  the  south-west,  but  even  there 
nothing  but  the  distant  hills  of  Colmonell  looked  in,  blue 
and  serene.  Down  in  the  hollow  there  was  a  glint  of  melan- 
choly Loch  Moan,  lying  all  abroad  among  its  green  wet 
heather  and  stretches  of  yellow  bent. 

What  struck  me  as  most  surprising  in  this  assembly  was 
the  entire  absence  of  anything  like  concealment.  From 
every  quarter,  up  from  the  green  meadows  of  the  Minnoch 
Valley,  over  the  scaurs  of  the  Straiton  hills,  down  past  the 
craigs  of  Craigfacie,  over  from  the  deep  howe  of  Carsphairn, 
streams  of  men  came  walking  and  riding.  The  sun  glinted 
on  their  war-gear.  Had  there  been  a  trooper  within  miles, 
upon  any  of  the  circle  of  the  hills,  the  dimples  of  light  could 


A  DESIRABLE   GENERAL   MEETING.  285 

not  have  been  missed.  For  they  caught  the  sun  and  flecked 
the  heather  —  as  when  one  looks  upon  a  sparkling  sea,  with 
the  sun  rising  over  it  and  each  wave  carrying  its  own  glint 
of  light  with  it  upon  its  moving  crest. 

As  I  looked,  the  heart  within  me  became  glad  with  a  full- 
grown  joy.  So  long  had  we  of  the  Religion  hidden  like 
foxes  and  run  like  hares,  that  we  had  forgotten  that  there 
were  so  many  in  the  like  case,  only  needing  drawing  to- 
gether to  be  the  one  power  in  the  land.  But  the  time, 
though  at  hand,  was  not  yet. 

I  asked  of  a  dark  long-haired  man  who  stood  near  us, 
what  was  the  meaning  of  such  a  gathering.  He  looked  at 
me  with  a  kind  of  pity,  and  I  saw  the  enthusiasm  flash  from 
his  eye. 

"  The  Seven  Thousand  !  "  he  said ;  "  ken  ye  not  the  Seven 
Thousand  upon  the  hills  of  Scotland,  that  never  bowed  the 
knee  to  Baal?" 

"  Pardon  me,  friend,"  said  I,  "  long  hiding  on  the  moun- 
tains has  made  me  ignorant.  But  who  are  the  Seven 
Thousand?" 

"  Have  ye  indeed  hidden  on  the  mountains  and  ken  not 
that?  Did  ye  never  hear  of  them  that  wait  for  the  time 
appointed?" 

I  told  him  no. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  who  may  you  be  that  kens  so  little  ?  " 

I  said  that  I  was  William  Gordon,  younger  son  of  the 
persecuted  house  of  the  Gordons  of  Earlstoun. 

"  O,  the  Bull's  brother  !  "  said  he,  shortly,  and  turned  him 
about  to  go  away.  But  Spitfire  Wat  was  at  his  side,  and, 
taking  the  dark  man  by  the  elbow,  presently  halted  him  and 
span  him  round  so  that  he  faced  us. 

"  And  who  are  you  that  speaks  so  lightly  of  my  cousin  of 
Earlstoun?"  he  asked. 

I  think  Wat  had  forgotten  that  he  was  not  now  among  his 


286  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Cavalier  blades  —  who,  to  do  them  justice,  are  ready  to  put 
every  pot-house  quarrel  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword, 
which  is  after  all  a  better  way  than  disputation  and  the  strife 
of  tongues. 

The  dark  man  smiled.  "Ye  are  hot,  young  sir,"  he  said 
bitterly.  "These  manners  better  befit  the  guard-room  of 
Rob  Grier  of  Lag  than  a  gathering  of  the  Seven  Thousand. 
But  since  ye  ask  my  name,  I  am  poor  unworthy  Robin 
Hamilton,  on  whom  the  Lord  hath  set  His  hand." 

Then  we  knew  that  this  dark-browed  man  was  Sir  Robert 
Hamilton,  who  with  my  brother  Sandy  had  been  the  Socie- 
ties' Commissioner  to  the  Low  Counties,  and  who  was  here 
at  Shalloch-on-Minnoch  to  defend  his  action.  He  was  also 
brother  of  Jean  Hamilton,  Sandy's  wife,  and  of  a  yet  more 
sombre  piety. 

Then,  though  I  knew  well  that  he  had  been  the  rock  on 
which  the  Covenant  ship  split  at  Bothwell,  and  a  stone  of 
stumbling  in  our  counsels  ever  since,  yet,  because  he  looked 
so  weary  and  broken  with  toils,  travels,  and  watchings,  my 
heart  could  not  choose  but  go  out  to  him. 

As  he  looked  and  said  nothing,  a  more  kindly  light  came 
into  his  eye  as  he  gazed  at  Wat.  "  Ye  will  be  Black  Bess  of 
Lochinvar's  son  —  a  tacked-on  Covenant  man.  But  I  doubt 
not  a  kindly  lad,  for  all  ye  are  so  brisk  with  your  tongue  and 
ready  with  your  blade.  I  have  seen  the  day  when  it  would 
have  done  me  a  pleasure  to  step  out  with  you,  in  days  that 
were  full  of  the  pride  of  the  flesh.  I  do  not  blame  you. 
To  fight  first  and  ask  wherefore  after,  is  the  Gordon  all  over. 
But  do  not  forget  that  this  day,  here  on  the  wild  side  of  the 
Shalloch-on-Minnoch,  there  are  well-nigh  a  thousand  gentle- 
men of  as  good  blood  as  your  own.  Homespun  cloth  and 
herds'  plaidies  cover  many  a  man  of  ancient  name  this  day, 
that  never  thought  to  find  himself  in  arms  against  the  King, 
even  for  the  truth's  sake." 


A  DESIRABLE  GENERAL  MEETING.  287 

Robert  Hamilton  spoke  with  such  an  air  of  dignity  and 
sadness,  that  Wat  lifted  his  hand  to  his  blue  bonnet  in  token 
that  he  was  pacified.  And  with  a  kindly  nod  the  stranger 
turned  among  the  throng  that  now  filled  all  the  spacious 
place  of  meeting. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE   OUTFACING   OF   CLAVERS. 

IT  was  indeed  a  wonderful  sight  and  made  our  hearts  beat 
high  only  to  look  at  it.  Upon  the  Session  Stone  twelve  men 
stood  with  heads  bared  to  the  fierce  heat  of  the  sun.  All  of 
them  were  grey-headed  men,  saving  two  only,  a  lad  of  a 
pale  and  girlish  face  with  dark  sweet  eyes,  and  towering 
above  him,  the  flecked  raven  locks  of  Sir  Robert  Hamilton. 
These  twelve  were  the  commissioners  of  districts,  all  ordained 
elders.  At  one  side  was  a  little  table  brought  from  the 
house  of  the  Shalloch,  and  a  man  sat  at  it  busily  writing. 
By  a  curious  sword  cut  across  his  cheek,  I  knew  him  for 
Michael  Shields,  presently  the  clerk,  and  afterwards  the  his- 
torian of  the  United  Societies. 

Behind  upon  the  hillside  was  drawn  up  a  guard  of  two  hun- 
dred horse.  And  the  tossing  bits  and  jingling  accoutrements 
made  a  pleasant  sound  to  me  that  loved  such  things,  which 
were  mostly  the  portion  of  our  enemies.  The  wide  amphi- 
theatre opposite  to  the  Session  Stone  was  occupied  chiefly 
by  the  women  and  older  men,  who,  as  I  have  said,  sat  upon 
plaids  spread  upon  the  bank.  Behind  these  again,  and 
extending  far  up  the  gently  sloping  side  of  the  Shalloch  Hill, 
was  a  noble  sight,  that  made  me  gasp  for  gladness.  Com- 
pany behind  company  were  ranked  the  men  whom  Robert 
Hamilton  had  called  the  Seven  Thousand.  There  were 
officers  on  their  flanks,  on  whose  drawn  swords  the  sun  glit- 
tered ;  and  though  there  was  no  uniformity  of  dress,  there 
was  in  every  bonnet  the  blue  favour  of  the  Covenant.  Their 

288 


THE  OUTFACING  OF  CLAVERS.  289 

formation  was  so  steady  and  their  numbers  so  large  that  the 
whole  hillside  seemed  covered  with  their  regiments.  Look- 
ing back  over  the  years,  I  think  we  might  have  risked  a 
Dunkeld  before  the  time  with  such  an  ordered  host. 

I  heard  one  speaking  in  the  French  language  at  my  elbow 
and  looked  about  me.  Whereupon  I  spied  two  men  who 
had  been  walking  to  and  fro  among  the  companies. 

"  But  all  this  will  do  little  good  for  a  time,"  said  one  of 
the  speakers.  "  We  must  keep  them  out  of  the  field  till  we 
are  ready.  They  need  one  to  draw  them  into  the  bond  of 
obedience.  They  are  able  to  fight  singly,  but  together  they 
cannot  fight." 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  other,  "  they  will  stand  us  in  good 
stead  one  day  when  the  Prince  sails  over.  The  Seven  Thou- 
sand shall  be  our  mainstay  in  that  day,  not  in  Scotland  only, 
but  in  Britain." 

By  this  I  guessed  that  these  two  were  officers  of  the 
Prince  of  Orange  sent  over  to  see  if  the  times  were  yet  ripe. 

Meanwhile  the  meeting  proceeded  to  its  end  amid  the 
voice  of  prayer  and  the  solemn  throb  of  psalmody.  It  was  a 
great  and  gracious  thing  to  hear  the  swell  of  praise  that 
went  up  from  that  hillside,  from  the  men  who  had  wor- 
shipped only  in  the  way  of  silence  and  in  private,  because 
they  dared  no  other,  for  many  weary  months. 

It  was  about  the  third  hour  of  the  afternoon,  and  we  had 
not  begun  to  wax  weary,  when,  away  on  the  hillside,  we 
heard  the  sound  of  cheering.  We  looked  about  us  to  see 
what  might  be  the  cause.  There  came  one  riding  slowly 
down  upon  a  much  tired  horse  between  the  ranks  of  the 
companies  —  a  great  tall  man  in  a  foreign  coat  and  hat, 
whom  at  the  first  glint  my  mother  knew  for  Sandy  my 
brother. 

As  he  came  nearer  the  roar  of  greeting  swelled  and  lifted. 
I  declare  I  was  proud  of  him.  Even  Robert  Hamilton  had 
u 


290  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

gotten  no  such  greeting.  I  had  not  thought  that  our  Sandy 
was  so  well-kenned  a  man.  And  I  forgave  him  for  flouting 
me. 

"Mother,"  I  said,  "  that  is  our  Sandy  they  are  cheering ! " 

"Think  ye  I  kenned  not  that!  Whaur  has  he  come 
frae?"  she  said.  "I  wonder  if  Jean  Hamilton  kens." 

It  was  like  my  mother  to  think  first  of  others;  but  in  a 
little  she  said, 

"I  trust  I  am  not  overproud,  that  my  bairn  is  so 
honoured." 

And  indeed  it  made  us  all  proud  that  Sandy  was  thus 
greatly  thought  of.  So  in  a  little  he  also  took  his  place  on 
the  Session  Stone,  and  made  another  young  head  among  the 
grey  beards.  Soon  he  was  called  upon  to  speak,  and  in 
his  sounding  voice  he  began  to  tell  of  his  message  from  the 
kirks  of  Holland,  and  to  commend  patience  and  faithful- 
ness. They  say  that  every  man  that  stood  to  arms  among 
the  Seven  Thousand  heard  him  that  day.  Aye,  and  that 
even  the  watchers  upon  the  tops  caught  many  blessed  words 
and  expressions,  which  the  light  winds  blew  them  in  wafts. 
Saving  Richard  Cameron's  alone,  there  was  no  such  voice 
as  Sandy's  heard  in  Scotland  during  all  his  time. 

Then  Robert  Hamilton  rose  and  spoke,  counselling  that 
since  there  were  so  many  present,  they  should  once  more 
and  immediately  fall  to  arms. 

But  one  of  the  most  venerable  men  there  present, 
rose. 

"Robin,  ye  are  but  one  of  the  Council  of  Twelve,  and 
ye  know  that  our  decision  is  to  wait  the  man  and  the  hour. 
It  beseems  you,  then,  either  to  speak  within  the  order  of 
the  Society  or  to  be  silent." 

Last  of  all  the  young  man  rose,  he  of  the  pale  counte- 
nance and  the  clustering  hair. 

"It  is  young  Mr.  James  Renwick,  who  is  going  abroad  to 


THE  OUTFACING  OF  CLAVERS.  291 

study  and  be  ordained  at  Groningen  in  the  Low  Countries," 
said  one  near  to  me.  And  indeed  he  was  mightily  changed 
so  that  I  had  scarce  known  him. 

The  lad's  voice  was  sweet  and  thrilling,  persuasive  beyond 
belief.  In  especial,  coming  after  the  mighty  roaring  of 
the  Bull  of  Earlstoun  (so  they  called  Sandy)  and  the  rasp- 
ing shriek  of  Robin  Hamilton,  it  had  a  great  effect  upon 
me.  There  came  a  sough  from  the  people  as  his  words 
ran  over  them,  like  a  soothing  and  fanning  wind  blowing 
winningly  among  the  trees  of  the  wood. 

So  the  day  passed  and  the  gladness  of  the  people  in- 
creased, till  some  of  us  felt  that  it  was  like  the  golden 
gates  of  heaven  just  to  be  there.  For  the  passion  of  a  mul- 
titude of  folk  with  one  heart's  desire,  thrilling  to  the  one 
word  and  the  one  hope,  had  taken  hold  on  us.  The  like 
was  never  seen  upon  the  wild  mountains  of  the  south. 

Then,  as  though  to  recall  us  to  earth,  from  the  green 
meads  of  the  Minnoch  side  there  came  one  running  to  pass 
the  word  that  the  enemy  was  in  sight.  Two  companies  of 
Strachan's  Dragoons,  with  all  Claverhouse's  levies,  were 
riding  from  Straiton  as  fast  as  their  horses  could  carry 
them.  Whereat,  without  haste  and  with  due  solemnity,  the 
great  and  desirable  General  Meeting  of  the  United  Socie- 
ties held  on  the  wilds  of  Shalloch-on-Minnoch  was  brought 
to  an  end. 

The  women  and  aged  men  were  placed  behind  the  com- 
panies, and  such  as  could  reach  home  without  passing  the 
troopers'  line  of  march  were  set  upon  their  way.  But  when 
once  we  found  ourselves  without  the  lines  of  the  com- 
panies, which  stretched  across  from  the  black  downthrow 
of  rocks  upon  Craigfacie  to  the  Rig  of  the  Shalloch  Hill, 
my  mother  would  go  no  farther. 

"Na,"  she  said,  "gang  your  ways  back  doon.  This  is 
the  place  for  Kate  and  for  an  auld  wife  like  me.  But  it 


292  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

shall  never  be  said  that  William  Gordon's  wife  grudged 
both  her  sons  to  the  work  of  the  Lord !  " 

So  Wat  and  I  went  our  ways  down  to  where  Sandy  stood 
as  chosen  leader  of  the  army  of  the  Seven  Thousand.  He 
paid,  indeed,  but  little  attention  to  us,  giving  us  no  more 
than  a  nod,  yet  instantly  setting  us  upon  errands  for  him. 

"Will  ye  fight?"  said  I,  when  I  got  a  quiet  moment  of 
him. 

"Alas!"  he  said,  "there  is  no  such  good  luck.  Had 
I  not  the  direct  message  of  the  Prince  to  abide  and  wait,  I 
would  even  now  strike  a  blow.  As  it  is,  we  must  just  stand 
to  our  arms.  I  would  to  God  it  were  otherwise ! " 

The  companies  of  mounted  soldiers  rapidly  approached, 
to  the  number  of  perhaps  three  hundred.  But  I  think  they 
were  daunted,  when  from  a  knoll  below  the  house  of  the 
Shalloch  they  first  saw  our  great  and  imposing  army.  They 
say  there  were  over  two  thousand  under  arms  that  day. 

"  The  Seven  Thousand  will  surely  stay  John  Graham  this 
day,"  said  one  at  my  elbow. 

But  Claverhouse  was  not  a  man  easily  feared. 

Leaving  his  men,  he  rode  forward  alone,  having  but  a 
trumpeter  someway  behind  him.  He  held  a  white  hand- 
kerchief in  his  hand,  and  waved  it  as  he  rode  towards  us 
upon  his  war-horse.  I  saw  the  trumpeter  lad  look  about 
him  more  than  once,  as  if  he  wished  himself  well  out  of  it. 
But  Colonel  Graham  rode  straight  at  the  centre  of  our  array 
as  if  it  had  been  his  own.  Sandy  went  out  to  meet  him. 

"Will  ye  surrender  and  lay  down  your  arms  to  the  King's 
troops?"  cried  Clavers  as  he  came  near.  Since  then  I 
have  never  denied  the  man  courage,  for  all  his  cruelty. 

There  came  a  gust  of  laughter  from  the  nearer  companies 
of  our  array  when  they  heard  his  words.  But  Sandy  checked 
the  noise  with  his  hand. 

"Surrender!"  he  said.     "It  is  you,  John  Graham,  that 


THE  OUTFACING  OF  CLAVERS.  293 

may  talk  of  surrender  this  day.  We  are  no  rebels.  We 
but  stand  to  our  arms  in  defence  of  our  covenant  rights." 

"  Keep  that  Whig  garbage  for  the  prayer-meeting,  Earls- 
toun ! "  said  Claverhouse.  "  I  at  least  know  you  too  well, 
Sandy  Gordon.  Do  you  mind  the  long  wood  of  Dairsie  by 
the  Eden  Water?" 

What  he  meant  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  think  his  words 
daunted  Sandy  for  a  moment.  For  in  his  old  unsanctified 
days  they  had  been  fast  comrades,  being  of  an  age,  and 
student  lads  together  at  Saint  Andrews,  where  both  were 
equally  keen  of  the  play  upon  the  green;  though  ever  since 
Sandy  married  Jean  Hamilton  he  had  turned  him  to  new 
courses. 

So  having  obtained  no  satisfaction,  Claverhouse  rode 
slowly  back  to  the  Dragoons.  Then  without  a  word,  save 
the  shout  of  command,  he  led  them  forward  over  the  moor 
toward  us. 

"Sain  my  soul  and  body,"  said  Wat,  "is  the  Heather 
Cat  going  to  charge  an  army  in  position?"  And  indeed 
it  looked  like  it. 

But  as  he  came  toward  us,  from  the  front  rank  where 
Sandy  stood  with  a  broadsword  bare  in  his  hand,  and  his 
horse  brisk  as  though  it  had  just  been  led  from  its  stall, 
came  my  brother's  voice. 

"If  ye  set  a  horse's  hoof  over  that  burn,  ye  shall  receive 
our  fire.  Men,  make  ready !  " 

Right  up  to  the  burn  bank  rode  Clavers  and  his  troop, 
and  there  halted.  For  a  long  minute  he  looked  at  us  very 
contemptuously.  Then  he  snapped  his  fingers  at  us. 

"  That  for  ye !  "  he  cried.  "  Ye  stand  the  day.  Ye  shall 
be  scattered  the  morn.  I  ken  ye  brawly.  Among  a'  your 
testimonies  there  is  not  one  which  any  three  of  ye  could 
read  over  and  not  fall  out  about.  This  day  ye  are  on  the 
brae-face.  The  morn  ye' 11  be  at  the  dyke  back,  with  an 


294  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

ounce  or  two  of  his  Majesty's  excellent  lead  in  ye.  God 
save  the  King!" 

And  with  that  he  waved  his  hand,  cried  to  his  men,  and 
rode  off  like  the  steeve  and  dour  persecutor  that  he  was. 

In  the  late  evening  we  took  my  mother  and  Kate  back 
again  over  the  hill.  My  mother  was  very  weary  —  so  weary 
that  at  the  house  of  Tonskeen  we  left  her  with  the  decent 
man  and  wife  that  abode  there,  with  Kate  to  bear  her  com- 
pany. She  was  not  used  to  the  life  on  the  hills,  and  so  for 
that  time  could  flee  no  further.  It  was  just  grey  day  when 
we  took  the  short  way  down  the  face  of  the  gairy,  that  lifts 
its  brow  over  the  desolate  moor  of  Macaterick.  Being 
unencumbered  with  women  folk,  Wat  and  I  now  came 
down  the  nearest  way,  that  which  leads  by  the  strange 
rocky  hollow,  steep  on  every  side,  which  is  named  the 
Maiden's  Bed.  So,  fleet  of  foot,  we  fled  westwards. 

As  we  looked,  the  sun  began  to  rise  over  the  Range  of 
Kells  and  the  tide  of  light  flowed  in  upon  us,  gladdening 
our  hearts.  Wat  was  not  so  brisk  as  I,  for  he  had  left  Kate 
behind;  and  though  young  men  in  times  of  danger  have 
perforce  to  think  of  their  skins  first  and  of  their  maids 
after,  yet  it  makes  not  the  foot  move  so  light  when  it  must 
step  out  away  from  the  beloved. 

But  all  the  same,  it  was  a  bright  morning  when  we  clam- 
bered down  the  steep  side  of  the  hill  that  looks  toward 
Macaterick  The  feathery  face  of  the  rock  above  the  levels 
of  Macaterick,  and  the  burn  that  flows  from  it  by  links  and 
shallows  into  Loch  Doon,  glanced  bright  with  the  morning 
sun  upon  them.  And  there  at  last  was  the  cave-mouth 
hidden  under  the  boskage  of  the  leaves. 

I  ran  on  before  Wat,  outstripping  him,  albeit  that  for 
ordinary  he  was  more  supple  than  I  —  so  great  was  my 
desire  to  see  Maisie  Lennox,  and  assure  myself  that  all  had 
gone  well  with  her  father.  I  had  not  a  thought  but  that  she 


THE  OUTFACING  OF   CLAVERS.  295 

would  be  sitting  safely  within,  with  the  cave  garnished  with 
fresh  leaves  like  a  bower,  and  her  father  watching  her  at 
her  knitting  through  his  bushy  eyebrows. 

Smiling,  I  lifted  the  curtain  of  birch  leaves.  Great  God 
of  Heaven !  The  cave  was  wholly  empty,  as  I  slid  down 
into  it.  Maisie  and  her  father  had  vanished ! 

I  stood  as  one  desperately  amazed.  There  was  no  life  or 
thought  or  soul  left  in  me.  I  stood  as  one  stands  at  the 
threshold  of  his  home,  before  whom  a  gulf  suddenly  yawns 
fathomless. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

THE   FIGHT  AT  THE   CALDONS. 

Now  that  which  follows  is  the  telling  of  Toskrie  Tarn, 
who  is  now  a  gardener  at  Afton,  but  who,  in  the  old  days, 
being  bitten  by  the  worldly  delight  of  soldiering,  had  ridden 
with  Clavers  and  Lag  in  the  tumultuous  times.  Tarn  is  a 
long  loose- jointed  loon,  for  ever  crying  about  rheumatism, 
but  a  truthteller  (as  indeed  John  Graham  taught  him  to  be), 
and  one  that  his  wife  has  in  subjection.  There  is  the  root 
of  the  old  man  in  Tarn  yet.  For  though  he  is  an  elder 
now,  oftentimes  I  have  come  on  him  round  a  corner,  using 
most  uncovenanted  language  to  his  underlings.  But  he  is 
a  good  gardener,  and  there  is  no  service  in  being  over  gleg 
in  the  hearing  with  such.  Besides,  his  wife  clours  him 
soundly  enough  when  there  is  need. 

Somewhat  after  the  following  manner  Tarn  told  his  tale,  a 
trifle  unwillingly  at  first,  but  warming  with  the  recollection 
as  he  proceeded. 

"Aweel,  Sir  William,  gin  ye  insist.  No  that  I  like  to 
be  speakin*  aboot  thae  days;  but  as  ye  inform  me  that  it 
is  a'  to  be  written  doon,  I'll  tell  ye  it  word  for  word. 
Weel,  after  the  Conventiclers  had  outfaced  us  at  the  Shal- 
loch-on-Minnoch,  Clavers  and  Douglas  rode  south  to  the 
Minnoch  Brig  that  looks  to  Loch  Trool. 

"'There's  a  dour  pack  o'  Whigs  up  that  glen/  says 
Clavers.  'Think  ye  we  will  take  a  turn  and  steer  them? ' 

"'They  will  just  be  hiving  hame  frae  the  conventicle. 
We  shall  catch  them  as  they  run, '  Douglas  made  answer. 

296 


THE   FIGHT  AT  THE  CALDONS.  297 

"So  without  a  word  more,  slack  rein  and  go-as-you- 
please,  we  rode  up  Glen  Trool.  It  was  a  bonny  nicht  and 
at  a'  times  a  bonny  place,  but  the  track  was  ill  to  keep, 
and  we  rode  loose  and  scattering.  Douglas  was  fair  foam- 
ing with  the  affront  of  the  Shalloch,  and  vowed,  as  he  had 
often  vowed  before,  that  he  would  never  more  spare  hilt  or 
hair  of  the  accursed  breed. 

"At  the  Caldons,  a  bit  farmhouse  set  on  a  rig  among 
trees  at  the  foot  of  Loch  Trool,  Gib  Macaterick  and  I  were 
riding  on  ahead  down  by  the  water-side  by  the  loch,  when 
suddenly,  without  warning,  we  came  on  a  little  cloud  of 
men  all  on  their  knees  praying  behind  a  dyke  back.  They 
were  so  busy  with  the  supplications  that  they  did  not  notice 
us.  And  we  that  looked  for  promotion  over  the  head  of 
the  business,  covered  them  with  our  muskets  and  called  to 
them  to  surrender  for  traitors  and  rebels.  But  in  a  trice 
they  were  over  the  dyke  and  at  us  like  wild-cats,  gripping 
our  horses  and  tumbling  us  off.  They  got  Gib  down,  but  I 
that  was  suppler,  managed  to  jook  among  the  young  oak- 
trees  and  run  what  I  was  fit  back  to  the  troop. 

"  Douglas  was  in  command,  for  Clavers  had  ridden  on. 
He  was  a  wild  man  when  I  told  him  that  the  rebels  had 
taken  Gib  Macaterick. 

"'Curse  you  and  him  both!'  Douglas  cried.  'Do  I 
command  a  set  of  porridge-stuffed,  baggy  knaves  that  fall 
off  their  horses  whenever  they  see  a  Whig  tyke  skartin'  for 
fleas?  I'll  tan  Gib's  hide  for  him  and  yours  too,  my  man, 
when  we  come  to  the  post.  Ye  shall  ride  the  timber  horse 
with  a  bit  musket  at  your  heels  to  learn  ye  how  siccarly  to 
sit  your  beast. ' 

"  Whereat  he  cried  to  wheel,  and  we  went  twos  about 
down  the  Caldons  road.  The  farm  sits  four  square  on 
a  knowe-tap,  compact  with  office-houses  and  mailings. 
There  are  the  little  three-cornered  wickets  in  the  walls. 


298  THE   MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

As  we  came  to  the  foot  of  the  brae  we  found  Gib  Macater- 
ick  stelled  up  against  the  dyke,  with  his  hands  bound  and 
a  paper  in  his  teeth  —  a  printed  copy  of  the  Covenant. 
He  was  quite  safe  and  sound.  But  when  we  loosed  him, 
he  could  do  nothing  but  curse  and  splutter. 

"'Thou  foul-mouthed  Whig,'  cried  Douglas,  'hast  thou 
also  been  taking  the  Covenant?  Have  him  out  and  shoot 
him!' 

"But  Gib  rose  and  made  an  end  of  the  Covenant,  by 
setting  his  foot  upon  it  and  crushing  it  into  the  sod.  Then 
we  moved  forward,  carelessly,  thinking  that  the  enemy 
would  never  stand  against  a  troop,  but  that  they  would  at 
once  scatter  to  the  hill  which  rises  steep  and  black  at  the 
gavel  end  of  the  house. 

"  However,  when  we  came  within  sight  of  the  steading, 
half  a  dozen  muskets  cracked,  and  one  of  our  company 
cried  out  with  the  pain  of  being  hit.  Indeed,  the  second 
volley  tumbled  more  than  one  trooper  from  his  saddle, 
and  caused  their  horses  to  break  ranks  and  run  back,  jin- 
gling accoutrements. 

"  So  Colonel  Douglas  dismounted  half  his  men,  and  sent 
the  better  part  of  a  troop,  under  the  Cornet  of  the  same 
name,  round  to  the  high  side  of  the  farm  to  take  the  Con- 
venticlers  in  flank.  Which  with  all  success  they  did,  and 
came  down  at  the  charge  upon  the  steadings,  capturing  half 
a  dozen,  mostly  young  lads,  that  were  there  with  muskets 
in  their  hands.  But  there  was  one  that  threw  himself  into 
the  lake  and  swam  under  water  for  it.  And  though  our 
soldiers  shot  off  a  power  of  powder  after  him,  we  could 
get  no  satisfaction  that  he  had  been  hit.  We  heard,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  a  Carsphairn  man  and  that  the  name  of 
him  was  Roger  Dunn. 

"  So  Douglas  ordered  a  dismounted  file  to  lead  the  young 
lads  out  into  a  dell  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house, 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  CALDONS.  299 

where  the  noise  of  the  shootings  would  not  annoy  him 
at  his  refreshment.  So  the  Cornet  took  them  out,  well- 
pleased.  For  it  was  a  job  that  suited  him  better  than 
fighting,  and  there,  in  a  little  green  hollow,  he  speedily 
laid  the  six  featly  in  a  row. 

"'So  perish  all  his  Majesty's  rebels!'  said  Colonel 
Douglas  as  he  rode  past,  bung  full  of  brandy  and  good 
mutton  ham. 

"'  That's  as  bonny  a  kill  o'  Whigs  as  we  hae  gotten  for 
mony  a  day.  Rothes  will  be  pleased  with  this  day's  work ! ' 
said  the  Cornet. 

"  It  was  growing  dark  by  the  time  that  we  drew  up  from 
the  loch  and  it  was  ill  getting  a  guide.  No  one  of  us  had 
ever  been  in  the  country,  and  there  is  no  wilder  in  all  the 
south,  as  I  have  cause  to  know.  But  we  had  not  got  to 
any  conclusion,  when  one  came  running  with  the  news  that 
he  saw  a  light.  So  we  spurred  on  as  briskly  as  we  dared, 
not  knowing  but  that  we  might  again  hear  the  whistle  of 
musket  balls  about  our  ears. 

"  It  was  the  little  farm  of  Esconquhan,  and  only  old  Sandy 
Gillespie  and  his  wife  were  at  home  —  the  lads  no  doubt 
being  at  the  conventicle,  or  it  may  be  among  those  who 
had  fought  with  us  in  the  yard  of  the  Caldons,  and  now  lay 
quiet  enough  down  in  the  copsewood  at  the  loch  foot. 

"  Sandy  Gillespie  of  Esconquhan  was  a  shrewd  old  fox 
enough,  and  answered  all  Douglas's  questions  with  great 
apparent  readiness. 

" '  Hae  you  a  Bible  ? '  asked  the  Colonel. 

"'Aye,'  said  Sandy,  'but  it's  gye  and  stoury.  Reek  it 
doon,  guid  wife  !  I  misdoot  I  dinna  read  it  as  often  as  I 
should  —  aiblins  like  yourseP,  Colonel.' 

"Very  biddably,  the  wife  reached  it  down  out  of  the 
little  black  hole  over  the  mantelshelf,  and  the  Colonel 
laughed. 


300  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

" l  It  is  indeed  brave  and  dusty.  Man,  I  see  you  are  no* 
a  right  Whig.  I  doubt  that  bit  book  disna  get  hard  wark  ! ' 

"Douglas's  refreshment  had  made  him  more  easy  to 
deal  with. 

"  '  Nevertheless,'  he  continued, '  fettle  on  your  blue  bonnet 
and  put  us  on  the  road  to  Bongill,  at  the  loch-head.  For 
there  is  a  great  Whigamore  there  of  the  name  of  Macmillan 
and  he  will  no'  get  aff  so  easy.  I  warrant  his  Bible  is 
well-thumbed  ! ' 

" '  I  canna  rin  wi'  ye  on  siccan  a  nicht,  and  deed  the 
road's  no'  canny.  But  you  red-coats  fear  neither  God  nor 
deil ! '  said  Sandy  Gillespie  readily. 

" '  Out  on  you,  gangrel.  Gin  ye  canna  rin  ye  shall  ride. 
Pu'  the  auld  wretch  up  ahint  ye,'  said  Douglas,  ready  to  be 
angry  as  soon  as  he  was  crossed,  like  all  men  in  liquor. 

"  And  so  we  went  over  the  hillside  very  carefully  —  such 
a  road  as  beast  was  never  set  to  gang  on  before. 

" '  Keep  doon  the  swearin'  as  muckle  ye  can,'  ordered 
Sergeant  Murphy.  '  Lord,  Lord,  but  this  is  heart-breaking  ! ' 

"  Sandy  Gillespie,  canny  man,  tried  to  dissuade  him  from 
going  to  Bongill  that  night.  Which  only  made  Douglas  the 
more  determined,  thinking  there  was  something  or  some- 
body that  he  might  light  on  there,  and  so  get  great  credit 
to  himself. 

" '  Gin  the  road  be  as  dour,  crooked,  and  coarse  as  the 
Cameronian's  road  to  heaven,  I'll  gang  that  road  this  night ! ' 
said  Lag,  who  was  pleased  with  the  death  of  the  six  Whigs 
at  the  Caldons  —  though,  as  it  might  be,  vexed  that  he  had 
not  been  at  the  shooting  himself. 

"We  were  no  more  than  clear  of  the  loch-side  path,  when 
Douglas  bade  old  Sandy  tune  his  pipes  to  help  the  men 
along  the  easier  road  with  a  song. 

"' A  Whig's  sang  or  a  King's-man's  sang?'  asked  the 
auld  tod  blythely. 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE  CALDONS.  301 

"'Hoot,  a  Cavalier's  song  —  what  need  hae  we  to  tak' 
the  Book  here  ! '  cried  Douglas  loudly. 

" '  More  need  than  inclination  ! '  said  Claverhouse  scorn- 
fully, who  was  now  riding  beside  them. 

"Sandy  Gillespie,  who  was  an  exceedingly  far-seeing  old 
worthy,  pretended  that  he  was  loth  to  sing,  whereat  Douglas 
ordered  him  with  an  oath  to  sing  upon  peril  of  his  life. 

"  So  the  old  man  struck  up  in  a  high  piping  voice,  but 
none  so  ill  in  tune  : 

'  Our  thistles  flourished  fresh  and  fair, 

And  bonny  bloomed  our  roses, 
But  Whigs  cam'  like  a  frost  in  June, 
And  withered  a'  oor  posies.' 

"  As  he  went  on  the  old  man's  voice  grew  louder,  and  in 
a  little,  half  the  command  was  cantily  shouting  the  song, 
which  indeed  goes  very  well  to  march  to. 

"'And  there's  Bongill,'  cried  Sandy,  suddenly  stopping 
and  dropping  off  his  horse,  '  an'  guid  e'en  to  ye  ! ' 

"  And  with  that  the  old  fellow  slid  off  among  the  brush- 
wood and  copse,  and  we  saw  no  more  of  him  —  which  per- 
haps was  as  well  for  him. 

"  When  we  went  into  the  little  house  of  Bongill,  we  found 
an  open  door  both  back  and  front.  Peats  were  blazing  on 
the  hearth.  Great  dishes  of  porridge  sat  on  a  table.  Chairs 
and  stools  were  overturned,  and  Bibles  and  Testaments  lay 
everywhere. 

"  '  Curse  the  old  dog.  He  has  sung  them  a'  to  the  hill,' 
cried  Douglas.  '  Have  him  out  and  shoot  him.' 

"  But  Sandy  was  not  to  be  seen.  Only  from  the  hillside, 
a  voice  —  the  same  that  had  sung,  '  Awa,  Whigs,  awa,'  gave 
us  '  Bonny  Davie  Leslie ' ;  and  then  cried  in  mockery  three 
times  '  Good-night ! ' 

"So  the  night  being  pit  mirk  and  the  hill  unknown,  we 


302  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

took  up  our  abode  at  Bongill  till  the  morning.  Sitting  in 
the  hole  of  the  peat  stack  we  found  a  strange  object,  a  crazy 
natural,  shapeless  and  ill-looking. 

"  But  some  of  the  men  who  had  seen  his  mother,  knew 
him  for  the  idiot  son  of  Corp-licht  Kate,  the  Informer,  of 
the  Shiel  of  the  Star.  Douglas  questioned  him,  for  some- 
times these  naturals  have  much  shrewd  wit. 

"  '  How  came  ye  to  be  here  ? ' 

"  '  Weel,  ye  see  the  way  o't  is  this ' 

" '  Make  a  short  story  of  it,  if  ye  dinna  want  a  bit  o'  lead 
through  ye.' 

"'  A  blaw  of  tobacco  wad  fit  Gash  Gibbie  better  —  grand 
man  in  the  reid  coatie  ! '  said  the  natural,  with  a  show  of 
cunning.  'I  cam'  to  the  Bongill  i'  the  gloamin',  an'  faith 
the  mistress  would  hae  gien  me  a  bed,  but  there  was  a 
horse  in  it  already  ! ' 

"  So  being  able  to  make  nothing  of  him,  Douglas  let  him 
go  back  to  his  dry  peat  coom. 

"  The  next  morning  was  bright  and  bonny  as  the  others 
had  been,  for  the  autumn  of  this  year  was  most  favourable 
to  our  purpose  —  by  the  blessing  o'  the  deil  as  Lag  used  to 
say  in  his  cups,  so  that  the  track  along  the  side  of  Curleywee 
to  Loch  Dee  was  dry  as  a  bone.  When  we  came  to  the 
ford  of  the  Cooran,  we  saw  a  party  coming  down  to  meet  us 
with  prisoners  riding  in  the  midst.  There  was  an  old  man 
with  his  feet  tied  together  under  the  horse's  belly.  He 
swayed  from  side  to  side  so  that  two  troopers  had  to  help 
him,  one  either  side,  to  keep  his  seat.  This  they  did, 
roughly  enough.  The  other  prisoner  was  a  young  lass  with 
a  still,  sweet  face,  but  with  something  commanding  about  it 
also  —  saving  your  presence,  sir.  She  was  indeed  a  picture 
and  my  heart  was  wae  for  her  when  some  one  cried  out : 

" '  Mardrochat  has  done  it  to  richts  this  time.  He  has 
gotten  the  auld  tod  o'  the  Duchrae,  Anton  Lennox,  and 


THE  FIGHT  AT  THE   CALDONS.  303 

his  bonny  dochter  at  the  same  catch.  That  will  be  no  less 
than  a  hundred  reward,  sterling  money  ! ' 

"  Whereat  Douglas  cursed  and  said  tha't  a  hundred  was 
too  much  for  any  renegade  dog  such  as  Cannon  of  Mardro- 
chat  to  handle,  and  that  he  could  assuredly  dock  him  of  the 
half  of  it. 

"  So  that  day  we  marched  to  New  Galloway,  and  the  next 
to  Minnyhive  on  the  road  by  the  Enterkin  to  Edinburgh." 

This  is  the  end  of  the  Toskrie  Tarn's  story  as  he  told  it 
to  me  in  the  garden  house  of  Afton. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

THE   GALLOWAY   FLAIL. 

WHEN  Wat  and  I  found  the  cave  empty,  immediately  we 
began  to  search  the  hill  for  traces  of  the  lost  ones.  For 
some  time  we  searched  in  vain.  But  a  little  to  the  right  of 
the  entrance  of  the  cave  the  whole  was  made  plain  to  us. 
Here  we  found  the  bent  and  heather  trampled,  and  abun- 
dant stains  of  recent  blood,  as  though  one  had  been  slain 
there  and  the  body  carried  away.  Also  I  found  a  silken 
snood  and  the  colour  of  it  was  blue.  It  was  not  the  hue, 
for  that  is  worn  by  most  of  the  maids  of  Scotland ;  but  when 
I  took  it  to  me,  I  knew  as  certainly  as  though  I  had  seen  it 
there,  that  it  had  bound  about  the  hair  of  Maisie  Lennox. 
Though  when  Wat  asked  of  me  (who,  being  a  lover  might 
have  known  better)  how  I  knew  it  for  hers,  I  could  not  find 
words  to  tell  him.  But  it  is  true  that  all  the  same,  know  it 
I  did. 

So  we  followed  down  the  trail,  finding  now  a  shred  of 
cleading  and  again  the  broken  bits  of  a  tobacco  pipe  such 
as  soldiers  use,  small  and  black,  till  in  our  search  we  had 
rounded  the  hill  that  looks  into  the  valley  of  the  Cooran. 
Here  at  the  crossing  of  the  burn,  where  it  was  smallest,  we 
found  Anton  Lennox's  broad  blue  bonnet. 

It  was  enough.  Soon  we  were  scouring  the  hilltops  as 
fast  as  our  legs  could  move  under  us.  We  travelled  south- 
ward, keeping  ever  a  keen  watch,  and  twice  during  the  day 
we  caught  sight  of  troops  of  dragoons,  moving  slowly  over 
the  heather  and  picking  their  way  among  the  hags,  quarter- 

304 


THE  GALLOWAY  FLAIL.  305 

ing  the  land  for  the  sport  of  man-catching  as  they  went. 
Once  they  raised,  as  it  had  been  a  poor  maukin,  a  young 
lad  that  ran  from  them.  And  we  could  see  the  soldiers 
running  their  horses  and  firing  off  white  pluffs  of  powder. 
It  was  a  long  time  ere  the  musket-cracks  came  to  us,  which 
must  have  sounded  so  near  and  terrible  to  the  poor  fugitive. 
But  they  hit  him  not,  and  for  that  time  at  least  he  wan  off 
scot  free.  So  presently  we  saw  them  come  back,  jeered  at 
by  their  comrades,  like  dogs  that  have  missed  the  quarry 
and  slink  home  with  their  tails  between  their  legs. 

But  neither  one  of  our  poor  captives  was  among  them. 
So  we  held  fast  and  snell  to  the  eastward,  passing  along  the 
skirts  of  the  Millyea,  and  keeping  to  the  heights  above  the 
track  which  runs  from  the  Glenkens  to  the  Water  of  Cree. 
It  was  near  to  the  infall  of  the  road  from  Loch  Dee  that  we 
first  gat  sight  of  those  we  sought.  It  was  not  a  large  com- 
pany which  had  them  in  charge,  and  they  marched  not  at 
all  orderly.  So  that  we  judged  it  to  be  either  one  of  the 
Annandale  levies  of  the  Johnstone,  or  Lag's  Dumfries  troop 
of  renegades. 

But  as  we  came  nearer,  we  marked  quite  clearly  that  they 
had  two  prisoners,  tall  men,  one  with  some  white  thing 
about  his  head,  and  in  the  rear  they  had  six  or  seven  other 
men,  mostly  on  foot.  Coming  nearer  we  could  also  see  a 
figure  as  of  a  young  maid  upon  a  horse.  Then  I  knew  that 
the  dear  lass  I  had  watched  and  warded  so  long,  was  surely 
at  the  mercy  of  the  rudest  of  the  enemy. 

We  were  thus  scouring  along  the  moor,  keeping  a  wary 
eye  upon  the  troop  and  their  poor  prisoners,  when  Wat's 
foot  took  the  edge  of  a  moss-hag  where  the  ground  was 
soft.  As  it  pressed  the  soil  downward,  we  heard  a  sudden 
cry,  a  wild,  black-a-vised  man  sprang  up  with  a  drawn  sword 
in  his  hand,  and  pulling  out  a  pistol  ran  at  us.  We  were  so 
taken  aback  at  the  assault  that  we  could  scarcely  put  our- 
x 


306  THE  MEN   OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

selves  upon  the  defence.  But  ere  the  man  came  near,  he 
saw  that  we  were  dressed  like  men  of  the  hills.  He  stopped 
and  looked  at  us,  his  weapons  being  still  pointed  our  way. 

"  Ye  are  of  the  people  !  "  he  said  sternly. 

"Ay,"  said  we,  for  I  think  Clavers  himself  had  owned 
as  much,  being  taken  unawares  and  unable  to  get  at  his 
weapons. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  ye  at  the  General  Meeting,"  he  said. 

"We  were  there,"  we  replied;  "we  are  two  of  the 
Glenkens  Gordons." 

"And  I  am  that  unworthy  outcast  James  MacMichael." 

Then  we  knew  that  this  was  he  who,  for  the  murder  of 
the  curate  of  Carsphairn  (a  mightily  foolish  and  ill-set 
man),  was  expelled  and  excommunicated  by  the  United 
Societies. 

"  I  will  come  with  you  for  company,"  he  said,  taking  his 
bonnet  out  of  the  moss-bank  into  which  Wat's  foot  had 
pressed  it. 

Now  we  wanted  not  his  company.  But  because  we 
knew  not  (save  in  the  matter  of  Peter  Pearson)  what  the 
manner  of  the  man  was,  the  time  went  past  in  which  we 
could  have  told  him  that  his  room  was  more  to  us  than 
his  company.  So,  most  ungraciously,  we  permitted  him 
to  come.  Soon,  however,  we  saw  that  he  knew  far  more 
of  heather-craft  than  we.  Our  skill  in  the  hill-lore  was  to 
his  but  as  the  bairn's  to  that  of  the  regent  of  a  college. 

"The  band  that  we  see  yonder  is  but  the  off-scourings 
of  half  a  dozen  troops,"  said  he,  "  and  chance  riders  that 
Cannon  of  Mardrochat  has  gathered.  The  ill  loon  him- 
self is  not  with  them.  He  will  be  lying  watching  about 
some  dyke  bank.  Ah,  would  that  I  could  get  my  musket 
on  him." 

So  we  hasted  along  the  way,  keeping  to  the  hills  in  order 
to  reach  the  Clachan  of  St.  John's  town  before  the  soldiers. 


THE  GALLOWAY  FLAIL.  307 

We  went  cautiously,  Black  MacMichael  leading,  often  run- 
ning with  his  head  as  low  as  a  dog,  and  showing  us  the 
advantage  of  every  cover  as  he  went. 

Nor  had  we  gone  far  when  we  had  proof,  if  we  wanted 
such,  of  the  desperate  character  of  the  man  in  whose 
company  by  inadvertence  we  found  ourselves.  We  were 
passing  through  a  little  cleuch  on  the  Holm  of  Ken  and 
making  down  to  the  water-side.  Already  we  could  see  the 
stream  glancing  like  silver  for  clearness  beneath  us.  All  of 
an  instant,  we  saw  Black  MacMichael  fall  prostrate  among 
the  rocks  at  the  side  of  the  cleuch.  He  lay  motionless  for 
a  moment  or  two.  Then,  without  warning,  he  let  his  piece 
off  with  a  bang  that  waked  all  the  birds  in  that  silent 
place,  and  went  to  our  hearts  also  with  a  stound  like  pain. 
For  though  Wat  and  I  had  both  done  men  to  death,  it  had 
been  in  battle,  or  face  to  face,  when  blade  crosses  blade 
and  eye  meets  eye,  and  our  foes  had  at  least  an  equal 
chance  with  us.  We  had  not  been  used  to  clapping  at  a 
dyke  back  and  taking  sighting  shots  at  our  foes. 

As  soon  as  Black  MacMichael  had  fired,  he  lifted  up  his 
hand,  cried  "Victory,"  and  ran  forward  eagerly,  as  one 
that  fires  at  a  mark  at  a  wappenschaw  may  run  to  see  if  he 
has  hit  the  target.  Yet  Wat  and  I  went  not  down  nor  took 
part  with  him,  but  we  held  our  way  with  sore  hearts  for  the 
wickedness  of  this  man. 

Presently  he  came  out  and  set  after  us.  He  cried  "  Hoy  " 
many  times  for  us  to  wait  for  him,  but  we  tarried  not.  So 
he  took  to  running  and,  being  a  powerful  man  and  clever 
with  his  feet,  he  soon  overtook  us. 

"What  is  the  push?"  he  cried,  panting.  "I  hit  the 
skulker  that  watched  for  us  from  behind  a  rock.  I  keeled 
him  over  like  a  dog-fox  on  the  hillside.  See  what  he  had 
upon  him  !  "  And  he  took  from  off  his  shoulder  a  very  re- 
markable piece  of  ordnance  which  I  shall  presently  describe. 


308  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  We  want  neither  art  nor  part  in  your  bloody  deeds,  James 
MacMichael,"  I  answered  him.  "  Take  yourself  away,  till 
the  Lord  Himself  shall  judge  you  !  " 

He  stood  still  as  one  astonished. 

"  Gosh,"  he  said,  "  siccan  a  fash  aboot  killing  an  informer. 
I  wad  kill  them  a'  like  toads,  for  my  son  John  that  they 
hanged  upon  the  dule  tree  of  Lag.  I  would  slay  them  root 
and  branch  —  all  the  Griers  of  the  wicked  name.  O  that 
it  had  been  Mardrochat  himself.  Then  indeed  it  had  been 
a  fortunate  shot.  But  he  shall  not  escape  the  Black  Mac- 
Michael  ! " 

The  murderer,  for  indeed  I  could  not  hold  him  less, 
clapped  his  hand  upon  his  breast  and  looked  up  to  heaven 
in  a  way  that  made  me  think  him  crazed. 

"See  here  what  I  hae  gotten  aff  him?"  he  cried  again, 
like  a  child  pleased  with  a  toy. 

It  was  the  instrument  known  as  the  Galloway  flail.  It 
had  a  five-foot  handle  of  stout  ash,  worn  smooth  like  an  axe 
haft  with  handling.  Then  the  "  soople,"  or  part  of  the  flail 
that  strikes  the  corn  on  the  threshing  floor,  was  made  of 
three  lengths  of  iron,  jointed  together  with  links  of  iron 
chain,  so  that  in  striking  all  this  metal  part  would  curl  round 
an  enemy  and  crush  his  bones  like  those  of  a  chicken. 

"  Stand  off,"  I  said,  as  he  came  nearer  with  the  Galloway 
flail  in  his  hand ;  "  we  want  not  to  company  with  you,  neither 
to  share  in  your  iniquity." 

"  I  daresay  no,"  he  said,  frowning  on  us ;  "  but  ye  will 
hae  enough  o'  your  ain.  But  I'll  e'en  follow  on  for  a'  that. 
Ye  may  be  braw  an'  glad  o'  the  MacMichael  yet,  considering 
the  errand  ye  are  on." 

Nor  had  we  gone  far  when  his  words  proved  true 
enough. 

We  went  down  the  cleuch,  and  were  just  coming  out 
upon  the  wider  strath,  when  a  party  of  Lag's  men,  for  whom 


THE  GALLOWAY  FLAIL.  309 

no  doubt  the  dead  spy  had  been  gathering  information,  beset 
us.  There  were  only  half  a  dozen  of  them,  but  had  Mac- 
Michael  not  been  at  hand  with  his  terrible  weapon,  it  had 
certainly  gone  hard  with  us,  if  indeed  we  had  not  been  slain 
or  captured.  With  a  shout  they  set  themselves  at  us  with 
sword  and  pistol ;  but  since  only  one  of  them  was  mounted, 
the  odds  were  not  so  great  as  at  first  they  seemed.  Wat 
was  ready  with  his  blade  as  ever,  and  he  had  not  made  three 
passes  before  he  had  his  sword  through  his  man's  shoulder. 
But  it  was  otherwise  with  me.  A  hulking  fellow  sprang  on 
me  with  a  roar  like  a  wild  beast,  and  I  gave  myself  up  for 
lost.  Yet  I  engaged  him  as  I  best  could,  giving  ground  a 
little,  yet  ever  keeping  the  upper  hand  of  him.  But  as  we 
fought,  what  was  our  astonishment  to  see  MacMichael,  whose 
company  we  had  rejected,  whirl  his  iron  flail  above  his  head 
and  attack  the  mounted  man,  whose  sword  cracked  as 
though  it  had  been  made  of  pottery,  and  flew  into  a  hun- 
dred fragments,  jingling  to  the  ground  like  broken  glass. 
The  next  stroke  fell  ere  the  man  on  horseback  could  draw 
a  pistol.  And  we  could  hear  in  the  midst  of  our  warding 
and  striking  the  bones  crack  as  the  iron  links  of  the  flail 
settled  about  his  body.  The  next  moment  the  man  on 
horseback  pitched  heavily  forward  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
MacMichael  turned  with  a  yell  of  victory,  and  rushed  upon 
the  others.  One  stroke  only  he  got  as  he  passed  at  the 
dark,  savage-like  man  who  was  pressing  me  —  a  stroke  which 
snapped  his  sword  arm  like  a  pipe  staple,  so  that  he  fell 
writhing. 

"  Stripe  your  sword  through  him !  I'll  run  and  do 
another  ! "  cried  the  Black  MacMichael. 

But  the  others  did  not  stand  to  be  done  (small  blame  to 
them),  and  soon  all  three  were  running  what  they  could 
over  the  level  holms  of  the  Ken.  One  caught  the  riderless 
horse,  running  alongside  till  he  could  get  a  chance  to  spring 


310  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

upon  the  back  of  it,  and  so  galloped  back  to  the  garrison 
at  the  Clachan  of  St.  John. 

MacMichael  sat  down,  panting  as  with  honest  endeavour. 
He  wiped  his  brow  with  calm  deliberation. 

"  An'  troth,"  he  said,  "  I  think  ye  warna  the  waur  o'  Black 
MacMichael  an'  Rob  Grier's  Gallowa'  flail." 

Yet  there  was  not  even  thankfulness  in  our  hearts,  for  we 
found  ourselves  mixed  yet  more  deeply  in  the  fray.  Not 
that  this  broil  sat  on  us  like  that  other  business  of  the  dead 
spy  behind  the  heather  bush.  For  these  men  fell  in  fair 
fighting,  which  is  the  hap  of  any  man.  But  we  saw  clearly 
that  we  should  also  be  blamed  as  art  and  part  in  the  killing 
of  the  spy,  and  the  thought  was  bitter  gall  to  our  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

THE   FIGHT   IN  THE   GUT   OF  THE   ENTERKIN. 

ALL  the  next  two  days  we  were  gathering  for  the  rescue  of 
Maisie  and  her  father,  finding,  as  we  went  eastward,  men 
whose  hearts  were  hot  within  them  because  of  the  oppres- 
sion. But  we  found  not  place  nor  opportunity  till  the  third 
day.  It  was  the  night  of  the  second  day  that  I  stole  down 
to  the  little  village  of  Carron  Bridge,  which  stands  by  the 
brink  of  a  dashing,  clean-running  stream,  where  the  troops 
were  encamped.  There  I  managed  to  get  speech  of  Maisie 
Lennox.  I  clambered  down  one  bank  and  up  the  other. 
And  because  the  houses  stood  over  the  brawling  of  the 
stream,  the  soldiers  on  guard  heard  me  not.  I  went  from 
window  to  window  till,  by  the  good  hap  of  love  (and  the 
blessing  of  God),  I  found  the  window  of  the  room  within 
which  Maisie  Lennox  was  confined. 

I  cried  to  her  through  the  dark,  low  and  much  afraid. 
"  Maisie  May ! "  I  called  as  in  old  days  at  the  Duchrae, 
when  I  used  to  carry  her  on  my  back,  and  she  in  sportive- 
ness  used  to  run  and  hide  from  me. 

She  was  not  asleep,  for  I  heard  her  say  plainly,  like  one 
speaking  from  a  bed  : 

"It  is  a  dream  —  a  sweet  dream  !"  But  nevertheless  I 
knew  that  she  sat  up  and  listened. 

"  Maisie  May  !  "  I  said  again  at  the  window,  very  softly. 

I  heard  her  move,  and  in  a  moment  she  came  to  the 
lattice,  and  put  her  hand  on  the  sill. 

"Oh,  William!"  she  said,  "is  it  indeed  you  and  not  a 
dream?" 

3" 


312  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  It  is  even  William  Gordon !  "  I  said,  sorry  that  I  could 
not  do  more  than  touch  her  fingers  through  the  thick  bars 
of  the  guard-house. 

"You  must  go  away  at  once,"  she  said;  "there  are  three 
soldiers  sleeping  no  further  off  than  the  door." 

"We  will  rescue  you  to-morrow,  Maisie,"  I  said. 

"And  get  yoursel's  killed!  "  she  said.  "Do  not  try  it, 
for  my  sake." 

"Well,  for  your  father's!  "  I  said. 

And  at  that  she  said  nothing. 

Then  she  told  me  that  the  young  officer  in  command  was 
a  lad  from  one  of  the  good  families  of  the  North,  and  that 
he  treated  them  civilly.  But  that,  having  lost  a  prisoner 
on  a  former  occasion,  he  might  happen  to  lose  his  life  if 
he  let  slip  so  noble  a  taking;  which  made  him  careful  of 
his  prisoners  with  a  great  carefulness.  As  well  it  might; 
for  the  Privy  Council  was  not  to  be  trifled  with  in  those 
days. 

There  were  nine  of  the  prisoners  altogether,  including 
the  minister  of  a  Nithside  conventicle  that  had  been  scat- 
tered that  day.  More  I  could  not  get  from  her.  For, 
one  of  the  soldiers  stirring  without,  she  prayed  me  so  pite- 
ously  to  be  gone,  that  I  set  off  crawling  down  among  the 
stones,  though  I  was  eager  to  hear  how  they  had  been 
taken  at  Cove  Macaterick.  But  that  I  had  to  put  off  to 
another  diet  of  hearing,  as  they  say  in  the  kirk. 

On  the  morrow  we  came  upon  the  man  that  was  of  all 
men  the  best  fitted  to  give  us  aid  in  the  matter  of  rescue. 
This  was  James  Harkness  of  Locharben,  "James  of  the 
Long  Gun,"  as  he  was  called.  He  had  been  a  soldier,  and 
was  said  to  be  the  finest  marksman  in  Scotland.  Often 
had  the  King's  party  tried  to  win  him  back  again  to  the 
troop,  but  James  kept  to  the  hills  with  his  noted  long  gun 
ever  at  his  back.  For  many  years  he  had  as  companion  his 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  ENTERKIN.  313 

brother  Thomas,  called  "Tarn  o'  the  Lang  Hosen."  But 
he  had  been  killed  in  battle,  so  that  often  like  a  widowed 
Jack  heron,  James  Harkness  stood  at  gaze  on  some  hilltop, 
leaning  on  his  gun,  and  this  was  mostly  his  place  at  con- 
venticles or  meetings  of  the  Societies. 

Being  an  old  soldier,  it  fell  to  him  now  to  choose  the 
place  of  the  rescue  and  to  command  us  in  the  manner  of 
it.  It  was  in  the  deep  and  narrow  defile  of  the  Enterkin 
that  he  posted  us  —  a  most  wild  and  fearsome  place,  where 
the  hills  draw  very  close  together.  One  of  the  places  is 
called  Stey  Gail,  and  is  so  high  that  the  sheep  grazing  on 
it  are  like  flies  but  half  way  up,  as  my  plain-spoken  friend 
Mr.  Daniel  de  Foe  well  remarked  when  he  passed  that 
way.  On  the  other  side  there  rises  still  higher,  and  almost 
as  steep,  the  top  of  the  Thirlstane  Hill.  There  is  one 
place  at  which  the  water  runs  down  the  cleft  of  the  hills, 
and  the  place  is  perpendicular  like  a  wall.  It  is  so  steep 
a  place,  as  Mr.  Foe  saw  it,  that  if  a  sheep  die  it  lies  not 
still,  but  falls  from  slope  to  slope,  till  it  ends  in  the  Enter- 
kin  Water. 

The  path  passes  midways  on  the  steepest  and  most  terri- 
fying slope.  Here,  on  the  brow  high  above,  we  laid  our 
ambush,  and  piled  great  stones  to  roll  on  the  enemy  if 
need  were. 

It  was  a  dark,  gloomy  day,  with  black  clouds  driven  by 
the  wind,  and  scuffs  of  grey  showers  scudding  among  the 
hilltops. 

Presently  lying  couched  amid  the  heather  we  saw  the 
dragoons  come  marching  loosely  two  and  two,  with  their 
reins  slack  on  their  horses'  necks.  At  the  entering  in  of 
the  gorge  we  observed  them  fall  to  single  file,  owing  to  the 
narrowing  of  the  path.  We  could  see  the  minister  riding 
first  of  the  prisoners  in  his  black  clothes.  Then  after  a 
soldier  came  Anton  Lennox,  sitting  staid  and  sober  on 


314  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

his  horse,  with  a  countryman  to  lead  the  beast,  and  to 
watch  that,  by  reason  of  his  wounds  and  weakness,  he  did 
not  fall  off. 

Then  followed  Maisie,  riding  daintily  and  sedately  as 
ever.  Then  came  five  or  six  other  prisoners.  Each  man 
of  these  was  held  by  a  rope  round  his  neck,  which  a  trooper 
had  attached  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  And  at  this  he 
took  an  occasional  tug,  according  to  his  desire,  as  other 
men  might  take  a  refreshment. 

So  these  poor  lads  were  being  haled  along  to  their  fate 
in  Edinburgh.  And  for  a  certain  long  moment,  at  least,  I 
thought  with  more  complacence  on  the  stark  spy  behind  the 
dyke,  to  whose  treachery  they  owed  their  fate.  But  the 
next  minute  I  was  ashamed  of  my  thought. 

As  I  looked  over  I  saw  the  whole  party  strung  out  along 
the  steep  and  dangerous  face  of  the  precipice.  Then  while 
they  were  thus  painfully  toiling  with  their  horses  through 
the  dangers  of  the  way,  James  of  the  Long  Gun  rose  to  his 
height  out  of  the  bent,  and  sent  his  powerful  voice  down, 
as  it  had  been  out  of  the  clouds.  For  as  I  said,  it  was 
misty  and  gloomy  that  day  —  as  indeed  it  is  seldom  other- 
wise there,  and  to  see  the  place  well  you  must  see  it  in 
gloom  and  in  no  other  way. 

"Halt,  ye  sons  of  Belial!"  cried  James  of  the  Long 
Gun. 

I  could  hardly  help  smiling,  for  he  said  it  solemnly,  as 
though  it  had  been  his  idea  of  a  civil  salutation  or  the 
enunciation  of  an  incontestable  fact. 

The  young  apple-faced  officer  answered,  holding  up  his 
hand  to  stay  the  cavalcade  behind  him,  and  hearing  some 
one  call  from  the  misty  hill,  but  not  catching  the  word. 

"Who  may  you  be,  and  what  do  you  want?  " 

Then  at  the  upward  wave  of  James  of  the  Long  Gun's 
hand,  twelve  of  us  stood  up  with  our  pieces  at  the  point 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  ENTERKIN.  315 

This  startled  young  Apple-Face  (yet  I  would  not  call  him 
that,  for  he  was  not  uncivil  to  Maisie).  For  he  thought 
of  the  Council's  word  to  him,  for  he  well  knew  that  it 
would  be  kept,  and  that  his  life  would  stand  for  the  pris- 
oners'. So  when  he  saw  twelve  armed  men  rise  from  the 
steep  side  of  the  Nether  Pot,  and  more  looking  over  the 
brow  of  the  Crawstane  Snout,  he  was  shaken  very  greatly 
in  his  nerves,  being  young  and  naturally  much  in  fear  of 
his  neck. 

Then  another  officer,  whom  we  afterwards  knew  as  Ser- 
geant Kelt  (he  has  wrongly  been  called  Captain,  but  no 
matter),  took  up  the  word  and  bade  us  to  stand,  for  rebel 
loons. 

But  it  was  Long  Gun  that  cried  out  to  him : 

"  Stand  yourself,  Kelt.  It  is  you  that  must  do  the  stand- 
ing, lest  we  send  you  to  your  own  place  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ravine,  and  with  a  dozen  shot  in  you.  Will  you  deliver 
your  prisoners?" 

"No,  sir,"  cried  Kelt,  "that  we  will  not,  though  we 
were  to  be  damned !  " 

It  was  a  soldier's  answer,  and  I  think  none  of  us  thought 
the  worse  of  him  for  the  expression  he  had  at  the  close. 

For  indeed  it  was  a  hard  case  for  all  of  them. 

At  which,  quick  as  the  echo  of  his  oath,  there  rose  one 
from  the  heather  at  our  back  and  fired  a  musket  at  him. 
It  was  Black  MacMichael. 

"Damned  ye  shall  be,  and  that  quick!  Tak'  that,"  he 
cried,  "an'  learn  no'  to  swear!" 

And  he  fired  his  pistol  also  at  the  soldier. 

Sergeant  Kelt  threw  up  his  arms,  shot  through  the  head. 
His  horse  also  fell  from  rock  to  rock,  and  among  a  great 
whammel  of  stones,  reached  the  bottom  of  the  defile  as 
soon  as  its  master. 

Then  every  man  of  the  twelve  of  us  had  our  pieces  to 


316  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

our  eyes,  and  each  had  picked  his  quarry,  when  the  young 
officer  held  up  his  hand  and  desired  a  parley. 

Indeed,  the  whole  command  was  in  great  jeopardy,  and 
so  strung  out  like  onions  on  a  cord,  that  no  man  could 
either  fight  well  himself  or  yet  draw  in  to  support  his  party. 
We  had  them  completely  at  our  mercy,  there  in  the  Gut  of 
the  Enterkin. 

At  this  moment  their  fore-goer  cried  back  to  them,  from 
the  knoll  whence  he  had  gone  to  scout,  that  there  appeared 
another  band  of  armed  countrymen  on  the  top  of  the  hill 
to  their  front.  They  were,  indeed,  but  some  merchant 
travellers  who,  seeing  the  military  stopping  the  way,  stood 
modestly  aside  to  let  them  pass.  But  they  did  us  as  much 
good  as  they  had  been  a  battalion  of  the  Seven  Thousand. 

At  this  the  officer  was  even  more  afraid,  though  I  think 
like  a  good  soldier  lad,  more  for  his  command  than  even 
for  his  own  credit  and  life. 

"Stand!"  he  cried.     "A  parley!    What  would  ye  have  ?" 

So  James  of  the  Long  Gun  called  out  to  him : 

"We  would  have  our  minister." 

For  so  they  thought  of  ministers  in  those  days.  But  I 
would  have  cried  for  certain  others  before  him,  being,  as 
it  were,  a  man  prepared  and  ready  to  go.  However,  I  tell 
it  as  James  Harkness  said  it. 

"Ye  shall  have  your  minister,"  said  the  officer. 

"And  the  lass,"  cried  I,  striking  in,  for  which  James  did 
not  thank  me. 

"And  the  lass,"  the  officer  repeated,  moving  a  little  at 
hearing  a  new  voice. 

"And  her  father  and  the  other  prisoners,"  I  added. 

The  officer  hung  a  little  on  his  words. 

"Do  you  want  them  all?     Must  ye  have  them?  " 

"Aye,  all  —  or  we  will  take  the  lives  of  every  one  of 
you!" 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  ENTERKIN.  317 

"Then,"  said  the  officer,  "my  life  is  forfeit  to  the  Coun- 
cil. Another  shall  surrender  the  prisoners  and  not  I." 

And  with  that  he  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  holster  and 
snapped  it  at  his  own  head.  Nevertheless  it  went  not  off, 
the  lock  being  out  of  order,  belike,  or  the  poor  lad's  hand 
unsteady. 

He  was  reaching  down  with  his  other  hand  to  pull 
another  pistol  from  the  opposite  holster,  but  ere  he  could 
draw  it,  the  voice  of  the  Covenanter,  Anton  Lennox,  spoke, 
gravely  and  nobly,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  all  of  us. 

"  Young  man,  face  not  in  your  own  blood  an  angry  God ! 
Leap  not  thus  quick  to  hell !  Abide  —  and  I,  Anton  Len- 
nox, vow  that  I  will  not  see  you  wronged.  I  am  but  an 
old  and  a  dying  man.  My  wounds  can  hardly  let  me  live. 
What  is  my  life  any  more  ?  It  is  even  at  your  service.  I 
will  go  with  you  to  the  Council ! " 

And  at  the  word  he  looked  up  to  the  dark  heaven,  the 
sunshine  wafting  after  the  shower  caught  his  head,  and  lo ! 
there  was  a  kind  of  glory  about  it,  as  of  one  that  sees  mys- 
teries unveiled. 

Then  we  cried  out  to  him  to  come  with  us,  but  he  denied. 
And  Maisie,  his  daughter,  fleeched  and  besought  him,  but 
he  would  not  even  for  her  tears. 

"Go  thou,  my  lassie,"  he  said,  "for  I  am  spent.  When 
I  set  my  sword  to  the  hilt  in  the  breast  of  Mardrochat,  of 
a  surety  I  also  gat  my  dead  stroke.  Now  I  am  no  better 
than  a  dead  man  myself;  and  perhaps  if  I  give  my  life  for 
the  life  of  this  heathen  man,  the  Lord  will  not  see  the 
blood  of  the  slain  on  my  hands." 

It  happens  not  often  while  men  are  yet  in  the  struggle, 
that  they  seem  to  live  to  the  height  of  their  profession. 
But  as  Anton  Lennox  made  his  renunciation  he  was  lifted, 
as  it  were,  to  the  seventh  heaven,  and  we  common  men  gazed 
silently  at  him,  expecting  to  see  him  vanish  out  of  our  sight. 


318  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then  he  gave  the  orders  as  one  with  authority  among 
the  soldiers,  even  the  officer  not  taking  the  words  from 
his  mouth. 

"  Loose  the  minister  and  let  him  step  up  the  hill  1 " 

And  they  did  it.  And  so  with  the  other  prisoners  till  it 
came  to  his  daughter,  Maisie  Lennox. 

Then  Anton,  being  sore  wounded,  bent  painfully  from 
his  horse,  and  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"My  lassie,"  he  said,  "daughter  of  the  Covenant  and  of 
mine  old  age,  do  not  weep  or  cry  for  me.  Yea,  though  I 
dwell  now  by  the  waters  of  Ulais,  whose  name  is  sorrow, 
and  drink  of  the  springs  of  a  Marah  that  cannot  be  made 
sweet,  I  am  the  Lord's  man.  He  hath  chosen  me.  My 
Master  gave  Himself  for  a  thief.  I,  a  sinner  above  most 
men,  am  willing  to  give  myself  for  this  persecutor  that  he 
may  have  time  to  repent." 

And  Maisie  bent  herself  pitifully  upon  his  hand,  but  she 
gave  forth  no  voice  or  tear,  and  her  little  hands  were  still 
bound  before  her. 

"Daughter  of  the  Covenant,"  her  father  said  again, 
"  thou  dost  well.  Kiss  me  once,  ere,  with  all  my  garments 
red  I  come  up  from  Bozrah,  going  to  the  sacrifice  as  a 
bridegroom  goeth  to  his  chamber.  If  it  please  the  Lord, 
in  the  Grassmarket,  which  is  red  already  with  the  blood 
of  the  saints,  I  shall  witness  a  good  confession  and  win 
worthily  off  the  stage.  It  has  been  my  constant  prayer  for 
years." 

So  without  further  word  the  troop  filed  away.  And  Anton 
Lennox,  Covenanter  and  brave  man,  sat  his  horse  like  a 
general  that  enters  a  conquered  city,  not  so  much  as  look- 
ing behind  him  to  where,  by  the  side  of  the  path,  Maisie 
Lennox  stood,  bareheaded,  her  hands  yet  bound,  for  none 
had  remembered  to  loose  them.  No  tear  was  upon  her 
pale  face,  and  as  each  rude  soldier  man  came  by  her,  he 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  ENTERKIN.  319 

saluted  as  reverently  as  though  she  had  been  King  Charles 
Stuart  himself. 

And  we,  that  were  twelve  men,  stood  at  gaze  on  the  hill 
above,  silent  and  afraid.  There  was  no  word  in  our  mouth 
and  no  prayer  in  our  heart.  We  stood  as  though  the  place 
had  been  the  Place  of  a  Skull  —  the  place  wherein  there  is 
a  garden,  and  in  the  garden  a  new  tomb. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE   DEATH   OF   MARDROCHAT. 

Now  we  knew  that  this  affair  would  of  a  surety  cause  a 
great  disturbance,  and  that  the  neighbourhood  would  be 
searched  as  a  herd  searches  a  hill  for  sheep.  So  with  all 
haste  we  came  back  to  Galloway,  and  though  we  could  not 
return  to  the  cave  on  the  Star  Hill,  we  continued  due  west 
that  we  might  see  how  my  mother  and  Kate  McGhie  were 
bestowed  all  this  time,  at  the  little  house  of  Tonskeen  in 
the  howe  of  the  hills. 

Maisie  was  wondrous  quiet.  She  had  hardly  uttered  a 
word  ever  since  we  watched  her  father  out  of  sight,  sitting 
erect  like  a  warrior  upon  his  horse.  It  was  indeed  not  a 
time  for  complaints.  Women  had  to  take  sorrows  as  they 
came,  as  I  was  reminded  of  in  an  old  letter  which  Jean  of 
the  Shirmers,  my  kind  entertainer  of  the  Garpel,  had  once 
written  to  Jean  Hamilton  upon  Sandy's  first  taking.  How 
I  came  by  it  I  forget,  if,  indeed,  I  ever  clearly  knew. 
But  at  all  events  here  it  is:  "You  are  not  the  first"  (so 
the  letter  ran)  "that  hath  had  dear  and  tender  husbands 
prisoners  for  Christ.  Yea,  blessed  be  God,  not  the  first  of 
the  many  hundreds  that  have  lost  them  as  to  the  world  in 
Scotland  in  our  day.  Suppose  that  should  happen  which 
you  cannot  tell.  Suppose  that  it  should  come  even  to  that, 
we  pray  you,  Jean  Hamilton,  tell  us  in  whose  hands  the 
keys  of  the  prison  are.  We  rather  desire  to  believe  in  your 
free  resignation  of  all  that  was  yours,  especially  of  all  that 
you  love  greatly.  Will  you  dare  to  seek  it  back  from  Him 

320 


THE  DEATH  OF  MARDROCHAT.  321 

now,  as  if  He  could  not  guide  and  keep  and  manage,  what 
you  have  committed  to  Him?  Far  be  from  you  this,  or 
the  like  of  this.  Bless  God  that  you  have  had  a  husband, 
if  it  were  only  to  propine  Him  with." 

Was  there  ever  such  consolation  sent  in  any  nation  to 
the  wife  of  a  man  condemned  to  torture  and  to  death? 
Yet  this  and  no  other  is  the  nature  of  our  Scots  Barnabas 
when  he  goes  a-comforting.  Like  the  three  that  came  to 
Job  of  old,  they  ever  tell  you  that  you  must  take  all  the  ill 
that  comes  to  you  thankfully,  and  at  the  back  of  it  expect 
yet  more  and  worse. 

This  is  indeed  more  than  enough  about  Jean  Hamil- 
ton's letter.  But  it  appeared  to  me  so  like  our  nation  and 
our  Cameronian  folk,  that  I  put  it  away  in  my  case  of 
despatches. 

I  did  not  trouble  Maisie  as  we  went  with  questions, 
knowing  full  well  that  when  she  felt  the  need  of  speech, 
she  would  come  and  tell  me  of  her  own  accord.  Till  then, 
I  was  content  to  be  silent,  though  I  yearned  to  know  the 
truth  of  the  taking  of  the  cave  and  all  her  adventure. 
"  It  was  about  the  gloaming  of  the  third  day  of  our  retreat, 
and  we  had  come  to  the  little  house  of  the  Nether  Crae, 
where  we  were  to  bide.  Maisie  Lennox  was  within  doors, 
and,  as  usual,  we  men  folk  hid  behind  the  mow.  The 
Nether  Crae  is  a  pleasant  spot,  but  it  looks  down  on  the 
Duchrae.  And  from  the  door  one  can  see  the  green  fields 
and  broomy  knowes  where  Maisie  and  I  had  played  so 
long.  But  now  the  soldiers  had  turned  the  steading  out, 
the  bam  and  byre  were  burned,  and  the  stock  driven 
away. 

So,  unable  to  bear  the  desolation,  Maisie  and  I  sat  out 
on  the  fair  green  playing-croft  that  looks  up  to  the  hillside, 
and  gazed  sadly  away  from  one  another,  saying  nothing. 
It  began  to  be  dark.  I  waited  for  her. 


322  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Suddenly  she  laid  her  head  on  my  shoulder  and  began  to 
sob  very  bitterly. 

"  My  faither !  O  my  faither !  "  she  said,  labouring  with  her 
breath. 

I  said  not  a  word,  but  only  gently  clapped  and  stroked 
her  hand  and  arm.  For  indeed  I  knew  not  what  to  say  and 
the  hand  was  near  me. 

"He  saved  me  —  he  took  me,"  she  cried.  "Then  he 
gied  himsel'  for  another." 

I  thought  she  meant  for  the  soldier  laddie,  but  still  I 
said  nothing,  soothing  her  only. 

It  was  coming  now.  I  saw  that  she  wanted  to  tell  me 
all.  So  I  said  nothing. 

"It  was  in  the  gloaming,  as  it  is  now,"  she  began,  "and 
my  sweet  lass,  Margaret  Wilson  and  I,  had  gone  ower  by 
to  Tonskeen  for  some  victual  that  the  kind  guidwife  hid 
every  day  in  a  hollow  of  the  turf-dyke  for  us.  And  as  we 
came  over  the  hilltop  we  heard  the  baying  of  hounds. 
But  we  thought  that  it  would  be  but  the  herd's  dogs  at  a 
collie-shangie,  tearing  at  one  another.  So  we  came  down 
the  hill,  stepping  lightly  as  we  could  with  our  load,  when 
of  a  sudden  there  leapt  on  us  three  evil  men.  Two  of  them 
took  hold  of  me  by  the  arms,  and  one  gripped  at  Margaret. 

"'Now  take  us  to  your  faither,  my  bonny  woman,  or  it 
will  be  the  waur  for  ye ! '  said  the  greatest  in  stature,  a 
black-a-vised,  ill-natured  rascal. 

"  But  I  was  so  astonished  that  I  knew  not  what  to  say. 
The  three  were  manifestly  no  soldiers  —  that  I  could  see  at 
once  —  but  just  the  scourings  of  the  Dumfries  stables,  that 
had  taken  to  the  informer's  trade. 

"  Then  when  we  came  near,  we  saw  that  a  great  number 
of  the  crew  had  dogs,  and  were  drawing  the  rocks  for  my 
father,  as  though  they  had  been  drawing  a  badger.  And 
my  heart  leapt  with  anger  to  know  that  he  was  their  quarry." 


THE  DEATH  OF   MARDROCHAT.  323 

But  the  mouth  of  the  cave  was  too  high  among  the  rocks 
for  even  a  dog  to  get  into  at  that  time. 

Indeed,  there  is  something  about  it,  whether  the  smell  of 
the  occupancy  of  man  or  not,  that  makes  dogs  not  keen  to 
enter  it  even  now. 

And  this  was  the  matter  of  Maisie's  tale.  I  give  it 
simply  as  she  told  it  to  me  without  "  he-saids  "  or  "  she- 
saids." 

She  was  sitting  close  by  my  side  the  while,  now  stilling 
her  sobs  that  she  might  tell  it  exactly,  and  anon  weeping 
freely  upon  my  shoulder  that  her  heart  might  have  ease. 

"  When  they  had  brought  us  by  force  to  the  face  of  rock 
and  copse  where,  as  you  know,  the  cave  is,"  Maisie  went 
on,  "  they  asked  us  again  and  again  to  take  them  to  the 
Whigs'  hiding-place.  When  we  refused  they  uttered  the 
most  horrid  threatenings,  swearing  what  things  should 
befall  us.  But  they  were  not  able  at  all  to  shake  us, 
though  we  were  but  two  maids  and  at  their  cruel  will. 
And  of  themselves  they  were  not  able  to  find  the  mouth  of 
the  cave  in  that  mile  of  tangled  gairy  face. 

"  So  the  cruellest  and  fiercest  of  all,  the  stark,  black-a- 
vised  man  whom  they  called  Mardrochat,  the  same  that 
stopped  us  by  the  ford  when  first  we  fled  from  Bal- 
maghie " 

"O  cursed  Mardrochat,"  I  cried,  striking  my  hands 
together,  "wait  till  I  come  to  a  settlement  with  you! " 

"  Nay,"  said  Maisie,  solemnly,  "  all  is  settled  and  paid 
already  with  Mardrochat.  So  they  threatened  till  they 
were  weary,  and  the  night  twas  coming  on.  Then  Mardro- 
chat turned  about  to  his  gallows  thieves  : 

" '  Must  we  go  back  empty-handed  ?  Let  me  try  my  way 
with  the  lassies,'  he  cried.  '  They  shall  be  complaisant  to 
tell  where  the  old  fox  lies,  or  else  suffer  that  which  shall 
serve  us  as  well.' 


324  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  With  that  he  came  near  and  put  his  hand  upon  me  in 
the  way  to  hurt  me.  Notwithstanding,  with  all  the  might 
that  was  in  me,  I  strove  to  keep  from  crying  out,  lest  my 
father  should  hear,  which  was  what  they  counted  on.  But 
as  God  is  my  witness,  I  could  not.  Then,  the  fear  being 
upon  me  and  the  pain  of  a  woman,  I  cried  out  in  my  agony, 
as  I  had  never  before  done  in  this  world." 

"  O  thrice  accursed  Mardrochat,  die  not  till  I  meet  thee," 
I  cried  again,  beating  and  bruising  my  naked  hand  upon  a 
rock  in  the  impotence  of  hate. 

Maisie  went  quietly  and  evenly  on  with  her  tale,  without 
heeding  my  anger. 

"  But  when  I  cried  the  third  time  in  my  extremity,  even 
like  a  lion  out  of  the  thicket  came  my  father  forth,  springing 
upon  them  suddenly  with  his  bright  sword  in  the  gloaming. 
Never  was  there  such  striking  since  the  world  began.  He 
struck  and  struck,  panting  and  resting  not,  roaring  in  fierce 
anger,  till  they  fairly  fled  from  before  the  face  of  him.  And 
the  first  he  struck  was  Mardrochat  —  he  that  then  held  me, 
and  the  blood  spurted  over  me.  Thus  it  was,"  she  went  on 
calmly,  as  though  she  had  been  telling  of  the  kye  coming 
home  at  e'en,  "  my  father  clave  him  to  the  teeth,  and  he  fell 
forward  on  that  which  had  been  his  face.  Then  plucking 
his  sword  to  him  again,  my  father  swung  it  hither  and  thither 
like  lightning,  and  pursued  them  over  the  moor  as  a  flock  of 
sheep  is  hunted  on  the  hill.  And  he  smote  and  slew  them 
as  he  ran.  My  father,  Anthony  Lennox,  did  all  that  alone. 
But,  alas  !  in  the  valley,  though  we  knew  it  not,  there  was 
a  troop  of  horse  encamped  about  a  fire,  the  same  whom  he 
of  the  Long  Gun  halted  and  took  us  from  in  the  midst 
of  Enterkin.  Now  my  father,  running  and  smiting  blindly, 
tripped  over  a  halter  and  fell  headlong  in  the  heart  of  them. 
Thus  they  took  Anton  Lennox,  who  had  never  been  taken 
before.  They  took  us  two  maids  also;  but  the  dragoons 


THE  DEATH  OF  MARDROCHAT.  325 

being  officered  by  gentlemen,  there  was  no  more  ill-usage. 
Now  though  he  had  killed  the  informers  and  spies,  the  sol- 
diers liked  my  father  none  the  less  for  that,  despising  those 
who  were  employed  on  such  service.  Rather  they  gave  my 
father  honour  and  not  dishonour,  as  one  that  was  mighty  at 
their  own  trade.  And  to  me  the  babe-faced  officer  was  both 
kind  and  courteous." 

After  this  she  was  silent  quite  a  while,  sitting  by  me  on 
the  mossy  seat  by  the  old  playing-green  of  the  Nether  Crae, 
and  looking  up  as  one  that  dreams,  to  the  heather  on  the 
hillside. 

"Is  it  not  a  noble  thing,"  she  said  musingly,  "to  have 
a  father  that  will  render  up  his  life  for  you  as  if  it  were  a 
little  thing?" 

Now  I  thought  within  myself  that  he  need  not  have  given 
it  also  for  a  peony-faced  officer  boy.  But  I  uttered  not  the 
word  aloud,  lest  I  should  be  shamed. 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE   BREAKING  OF  THE  THIEVES*    HOLE. 

So  on  the  morrow,  early  in  the  morning,  we  fared  on  into 
the  hills;  and  when  we  came  to  Tonskeen  in  the  wilds,  we 
found  my  mother  and  Kate  there.  They  were  both  well  in 
health  and  glad  to  greet  us,  though  my  mother  was  doleful 
because  of  the  news  of  Sandy's  taking,  which  had  just  been 
brought  to  her.  Yet  all  of  us  did  our  best  endeavours  to  be 
cheerful,  as  was  the  custom  in  Galloway  at  that  time,  when 
there  was  hardly  a  family  that  had  not  some  cause  of  mourn- 
ing and  sorrow.  Though  I  do  think  that  there  was  not 
one  so  deep  in  the  mire  as  our  unfortunate  house  of  Earls- 
toun. 

At  Tonskeen  also  we  found  Thomas  Wilson,  brother  of 
our  sweet  little  Margaret.  He  brought  us  sad  news  of  her. 
She  had  been  separated  from  Maisie  and  her  father  after 
the  capture,  and  taken  to  Wigtown  instead  of  accompanying 
them  toward  Edinburgh. 

The  lad  told  us  that  his  sister  was  now  confined  in  the 
Thieves'  Hole  at  Wigtown.  He  told  us  of  her  sham  trial, 
and,  spite  of  our  sore  hearts,  he  almost  made  us  laugh  with 
his  account  of  the  indictment  which  Winram  and  Coltran  — 
in  their  cups,  as  I  presume  —  had  laid  against  her.  Along 
with  our  Margaret  had  been  tried  her  little  sister  of  thirteen 
named  Agnes.  Both  these  young  things  had  been  most  bar- 
barously treated  by  the  noble  judges  of  Wigtown  —  Sheriff 
Davie  Graham,  Lag,  Strachan,  and  Winram.  Worst  of  all 
was  Davie  Graham,  for  having  his  hands  upon  the  fines, 

326 


BREAKING  OF  THE  THIEVES'   HOLE.  327 

he  desired  above  all  to  amerce  Gilbert  Wilson,  the  tenant  of 
Glen  Vernock  in  the  parish  of  Peninghame.  Gilbert  was  a 
man  well  to  do,  keeping  a  good  stock  both  of  nolt  and 
sheep  upon  a  large  ground,  and  so  the  more  apt  to  be  fined. 
He  was  a  quiet,  thewless,  pleasantly  conforming  man,  that 
was  willing  to  let  his  hearing  of  the  curates  keep  his  head. 
But  he  could  not  help  his  children,  as  alas  !  who  can? 
For  years  he  was  harassed  with  having  to  go  to  Wigtown 
every  court  day.  He  was  near  eaten  out  of  house  and 
home  with  having  soldiers  constantly  quartered  upon  him. 
And  all  because  his  children  had  chosen  to  endure  hardship 
cheerfully  for  the  good  cause,  and  to  serve  under  the  blue 
banner  that  has  the  cross  upon  it  —  at  least  so  far  as  young 
bairns  may.  So  from  a  child  Margaret  Wilson  had  com- 
panied  with  those  that  spoke  and  loved  the  truth.  She  had 
spent  much  of  her  time,  ever  since  she  was  a  lassie  of  ten, 
with  my  sober  Maisie  Lennox  at  the  Duchrae.  And  after- 
wards, when  she  grew  to  be  of  age  when  lassies  think  of  the 
lads,  Margaret,  for  the  sake  of  her  faith  and  for  naught  else, 
lived  on  the  wild  mountains,  in  the  bogs  and  caves  of  the 
hillsides. 

To  rne  Margaret  Wilson  ever  seemed  the  stillest  of  quiet 
maids ;  but,  as  our  Maisie  used  to  say,  she  was  terribly  set 
in  her  opinions  when  once  she  had  taken  her  stand.  Now 
at  eighteen  she  was  grown  to  a  tall  maid,  with  a  great  blow- 
ing mass  of  lint  white  hair  that  shone  like  gold  with  the  sun 
on  it.  Well  might  she  have  been  spared  to  be  some  man's 
delight,  had  she  not  been  (as  she  said  when  the  lads  speered 
her)  trysted  to  another  lot.  The  first  party  of  soldiers  to 
whom  she  was  delivered,  pitying  her  youth,  let  her  go  to  her 
own  home  from  the  crossing  of  the  water  at  Cree.  But  by 
misadventure  she  travelled  on  to  the  town  of  Wigtown  — 
where  with  the  little  lass  Agnes  in  her  hand,  she  was  resting  in 
a  friend's  house,  when  drunken  Winram,  ever  keen  of  scent 


328  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

for  an  ill-conditioned  deed,  got  track  of  her  being  in  the 
town.  He  sent  soldiers  to  take  her  on  the  spot,  together 
with  her  sister  of  thirteen  years,  and  bade  thrust  them  into 
the  Thieves'  Hole  that  was  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Wigtown, 
where  they  put  only  the  most  notorious  malefactors. 

All  this  and  more  Thomas  Wilson  told  us  —  how  that  his 
sisters  and  an  aged  woman  were  confined  there  and  guarded 
by  most  brutal  soldiers — yea,  had  already  been  doomed  to 
be  drowned  within  the  tide  mark  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time  —  though  the  day  of  their  death  as  yet  he  knew  not. 

Whereat  our  brave  Maisie  Lennox  was  eager  to  go  down 
to  Wigtown  and  try  for  a  rescue,  if  we  could  raise  those  that 
would  help  us.  But  we  could  not  suffer  her  to  go,  though 
most  ready  to  adventure  ourselves.  The  good  folk  of  Tons- 
keen  were  very  willing  to  let  my  mother  and  the  maids 
abide  with  them ;  for  since  the  taking  of  Anton  Lennox  no 
soldiers  had  been  seen  in  the  district.  And  the  slaying  of 
wicked  Mardrochat  had  feared  the  ill-set  informing  people 
greatly,  so  that  for  a  long  season  there  was  no  more  of  that. 

It  seemed  strange,  yet  so  it  was,  that  Maisie  Lennox,  who 
had  seen  her  father  pass,  as  it  were,  to  his  death  without  a 
tear,  wept  constantly  for  her  friend  and  gossip,  Margaret  of 
Glen  Vernock. 

"They  cannot  condemn  Margaret.  They  will  not  con- 
demn little  Margaret ! "  she  said  over  and  over,  as  women 
use. 

"Ay,  but  condemned  her  they  have  !"  said  her  brother 
Thomas,  "  for  they  libel  it  against  her  and  Agnes  that  they 
were  guilty  of  rebellion  at  Bothwell  Brig  and  Ayrsmoss " 

"  'Tis  plainly  impossible,"  I  said ;  "  the  judges  cannot 
mean  aught  to  their  hurt.  Why,  at  Bothwell,  Margaret  was 
but  twelve,  and  little  Agnes  a  paidling  bairn  of  seven  years. 
And  as  for  Ayrsmoss,  the  poor  bairns  were  never  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  place  in  their  lives." 


BREAKING  OF  THE  THIEVES'   HOLE.  329 

But  Thomas  Wilson,  a  quiet,  plainfaced  lad,  only  mis- 
trustfully shook  his  head. 

"It  is  even  true,"  he  said,  "they  mean  to  make  them 
suffer  if  they  can.  But  we  will  hae  a  thraw  at  it,  to  see  if 
we  canna  break  through  the  Thieves'  Hole  and  draw  the 
lassies  forth." 

So  it  was  set  for  the  following  night,  that  we  should  make 
the  attempt  to  break  the  Thieves'  Hole.  The  morrow,  when 
it  came,  proved  to  be  a  clear  day  and  fine  overhead,  which 
augured  not  well  for  our  attempt.  We  would  rather  have 
had  the  blackest  and  wildest  night  for  our  venture.  But  we 
had  little  time,  and  so  we  set  off  to  travel  by  the  road  the 
weary  miles  to  Wigtown.  We  hid  all  the  afternoon  in  a 
wood  at  Machermore,  and  laid  our  plans.  It  was  about 
eleven  of  the  clock  that  we  went  down  into  Wigtown,  with 
the  breaking  tools  which  Thomas  had  gotten  from  his 
father's  farm,  as  we  passed  down  through  Peninghame. 

At  the  door  of  the  little  hostelry  in  the  town  we  heard 
a  great  rioting  and  crying,  which  was,  as  we  understood, 
the  soldiers  of  Winram  and  some  of  Strachan's  officers 
drinking  late  with  the  Wigtown  lawyers,  as  was  their  cus- 
tom. A  big,  important-looking  man  went  by  us,  swaying  a 
little  unsteadily.  He  made  a  great  work  with  his  elbows  as 
he  went,  working  them  backward  and  forward  at  his  sides 
as  though  he  was  oaring  a  boat.  This,  Thomas  Wilson 
whispered,  was  Provost  Coltran,  going  home  to  his  town 
house,  after  he  and  David  Graham  had  had  their  nightcap 
together.  Very  evidently  the  Provost  was  carrying  his  full 
load.  For  in  the  midst  of  the  ill-kept  square  of  Wigtown, 
where  certain  tall  trees  grow,  he  paused  and  looked  upward 
among  the  leaves  to  where  the  crows  were  chattering  late 
among  their  younglings. 

"  Crawin'  and  splartin'  deils,"  he  said,  shaking  one  fist  up 
at  them,  and  holding  to  a  tree  with  the  other.  "I'll  hae  ye 


330  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

brocht  afore  the  Toon  Cooncil  and  fined  —  aye,  an'  a'  your 
goods  and  gear  shall  be  escheat  to  the  Crown.  Blood  me 
gin  I  dinna,  or  my  name  is  no  Provost  Cowtran  !  David 
Graham  will  be  glad  to  hear  o'  this  ! " 

So  saying,  he  staggered  away  homeward,  there  to  under- 
lie the  ill  tongue  of  his  wife  for  coming  home  in  such  a  con- 
dition—  albeit  not  much  worse  than  was  usual  with  him. 

About  the  Tolbooth  it  was  very  quiet,  and  all  was  still  also 
in  Lag's  lodging,  whose  windows  looked  down  upon  it.  We 
got  close  to  the  window  of  the  Hole,  and  crouched  to  wait 
for  the  deepest  darkening  behind  some  low  ill-smelling 
sheds,  in  which  pigs  were  grunting  and  snoring. 

But  even  at  this  time  of  year  it  is  very  light  at  night,  and 
especially  in  such  a  place  as  Wigtown  —  which  sits  not 
among  the  hills,  but  as  it  were  on  a  knowe  under  a  wide 
arch  of  sky,  making  it  little  and  lonely  under  all  that  vast- 
ness. 

Thomas  Wilson  was  to  gather  a  few  trusty  lads  (for  there 
were  still  such  about  the  place),  who  should  attempt  to 
burn  down  the  door  of  the  Hole.  While  Wat  and  I  with 
our  crowbars  or  gellecks,  our  mallets  and  chisels,  were  to 
try  our  best  with  the  window.  What  galled  us  most  was  the 
light  in  the  west,  which  remained  strangely  lucid  and  even, 
as  though  the  sky  itself  were  shining  clear  in  the  midst  of 
the  night  —  a  thing  which  I  had  never  seen  in  my  own  hill 
lands,  but  often  upon  the  flats  of  Wigtown. 

Our  hearts  were  beating,  I  warrant,  when  we  stole  out  to 
make  our  attempt.  This  we  did  at  eleven  by  the  town 
clock,  and  there  was  no  better  or  more  kindly  darkness  to 
be  looked  for.  It  was  silent  in  the  Square  of  Wigtown, 
save  for  the  crows  that  Provost  Coltran  had  shaken  his  fist 
at.  As  we  stole  to  the  window,  which  indeed  was  no  more 
than  a  hole  wide  enough,  the  bars  being  removed,  to  allow 
a  man's  body  to  pass  through,  we  heard  the  praying  of  the 


BREAKING  OF  THE  THIEVES'   HOLE.  331 

prisoners  within.  It  was  the  voice  of  our  little  Margaret 
Wilson.  When  last  I  heard  that  voice,  it  was  in  sweet  and 
womanly  converse  with  Maisie  Lennox,  concerning  the  light 
matters  of  which  women  love  to  speak,  but  are  immediately 
silent  about  when  a  man  comes  by  —  aye,  even  if  that  man 
be  their  nearest.  For  this  is  the  nature  of  woman. 

At  the  first  rasp  of  the  chisel,  there  was  silence  within,  for 
the  prisoners  knew  well  that  only  friends  would  try  to  enter 
in  that  way.  We  could  hear  the  lads  piling  faggots  at  the 
outer  door,  as  had  been  done  once  before  with  great  suc- 
cess, when  the  bars  were  burnt  through  within  half  an  hour. 
But,  since  the  fire  would  assuredly  bring  the  soldiers,  it  was 
put  off  till  we  had  made  our  attempt  upon  the  window. 

Wat  was  stronger  than  I  when  it  came  to  the  forcing 
aside  of  the  bars,  and  he  it  was  that  set  his  strength  to  mine, 
and  with  the  long  iron  impelled  out  of  its  binding  mortar 
the  great  central  bar.  Then  after  we  had  broken  the  lesser 
one  above  and  below  with  much  less  stress,  the  window  lay 
open.  It  seemed  a  practical  enough  breach.  It  came  my 
time  to  mount  and  enter  to  see  if  I  could  help  the  women 
out,  an  enterprise  which  needed  much  caution. 

Wat  had  scaled  the  roof  to  see  if  there  was  aught  there 
that  might  be  advantageous.  I  was  up  and  scrambling  with 
my  toes  against  the  rough  wall,  half  of  my  body  within,  when 
I  heard  a  scuffle  and  a  sudden  cry  of  warning  from  the 
other  side  of  the  tower.  I  heard  Wat  leap  down  with  a 
shout,  and  I  would  have  followed,  but  I  received  a  mighty 
push  which  sent  me  headlong  through  the  prison  window 
into  the  Thieves'  Hole.  Here  I  sat,  very  astonished  and 
dazed,  with  my  head  having  taken  the  wall,  till  the  door  was 
opened  and  a  figure,  booted  and  spurred,  cloaked  also  from 
head  to  heel,  came  in,  and  with  a  lantern  bearer  behind  him, 
stood  looking  at  us.  The  two  young  lassies,  Margaret  and 
Agnes,  sat  in  a  corner  clasping  one  another's  hands,  and  a 


332  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

very  old  woman  sat  near  me  with  her  head  clasped  in  her 
hands.  She  never  looked  up  so  long  as  I  saw  her,  and 
seemed  to  have  quite  lost  both  interest  and  hope. 

I  knew  that  the  big  man  with  the  cloak  was  the  Laird  of 
Lag,  for  once  with  my  father  I  had  seen  him  on  the  street 
at  Kirkcudbright,  when  he  spoke  us  fairly  enough  —  the 
matter  one  of  cattle  and  crops  belike. 

"  Whom  have  we  here,"  he  said,  "  coming  so  late  by  the 
window  to  see  the  lassies?  Young  Whiggie,  this  is  not 
proper  wark;  but  who  may  you  be?" 

I  sat  and  said  nothing. 

"Stell  him  up,"  he  said,  "and  let  us  see  what  like  this 
breaker  of  maidens'  chambers  may  be." 

But  I  stood  up  of  my  own  accord,  with  my  hand  on  the 
prison  wall. 

Then  he  appeared  to  recognise  me,  for  he  said  sourly : 

"Ye'll  be  an  Earlstoun  Gordon,  nae  doot  —  ye  favour  the 
breed  —  though  there's  mair  of  the  lawyer  Hope  nor  the 
fechtin'  Gordon  aboot  you.  I  hadna  thocht  ye  had  as 
muckle  spunk." 

Then  he  ordered  two  soldiers  to  stand  guard  over  the 
hole  on  the  outside,  and,  setting  a  double  guard  on  the 
Tolbooth,  he  cried,  "  Have  young  Gordon  forth  to  my  quar- 
ters." Which  when  they  did,  he  entertained  himself  for 
several  hours  telling  me  how  he  would  send  me  with  the 
utmost  care  to  Edinburgh,  and  of  the  newly  imported  tortures 
that  would  be  inflicted  on  Sandy  and  myself.  He  said  that 
Sandy  was  to  be  tortured  and  that  he  had  seen  the  precept 
from  London  with  the  order. 

"So  ye'll  juist  be  in  time  to  try  on  the  new  'boot.' 
There's  a  fine  braw  new-fangled  pattern  wi'  spikes,  and  I 
hear  that  the  new  thumbikins  are  excellently  persuasive. 
Faith,  they  hae  widened  many  a  Whig's  thrapple  already, 
and  made  it  braw  and  wide  in  the  swallow  ! " 


BREAKING  OF  THE  THIEVES'   HOLE.  333 

Then,  adding  all  the  time  cup  to  cup,  he  fell  to  cursing  me 
and  all  our  house,  not  letting  even  my  mother  alone,  till  I 
said  to  him : 

"  John  Graham  had  not  treated  a  prisoner  so.  Nor  you, 
Robert  Grierson,  if  you  thought  that  my  kinsman  Kenmure 
was  at  hand  to  strike  his  sword  through  your  body  —  as  once 
he  came  near  doing  in  the  street  of  Kirkcudbright  in  the 
matter  of  bell  of  Whiteside  !  " 

Now  this  (as  I  knew)  was  a  saying  which  angered  him 
exceedingly,  and  he  was  for  having  out  a  file  of  soldiers  and 
shooting  me  there  and  then.  But  luckily  Winram  came  in 
to  say  that  the  other  assailants  of  the  Tolbooth  had  gotten 
cleanly  off,  and  that  a  soldier  was  invalided  with  a  sword- 
thrust  through  and  through  his  shoulder,  in  which  very 
clearly  I  recognised  Wat's  handicraft. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  SANDS   OF  WIGTOWN. 

THE  morning  of  the  eleventh  of  May  came  as  calm  and 
sweet  as  the  night  had  been,  which  had  proved  so  disas- 
trously clear  for  us.  I  slept  little,  as  men  may  guess,  think- 
ing on  the  poor  lassies ;  and  sometimes  also  on  the  torture 
in  the  prison,  and  the  death  on  the  scaffold.  For  I  knew 
that  though  there  might  be  delay,  there  could  be  no  such 
thing  as  pardon  for  one  that  had  carried  the  standard  at 
Sanquhar,  charged  the  storming  fray  of  Ayrsmoss,  and  sole 
of  all  in  Cameron's  muster  had  gotten  clear  away. 

From  early  morning  I  could  hear  on  the  street  the  gather- 
ing of  the  folk  from  the  country-side  far  and  near.  And 
then  the  soldiers  came  clattering  by  to  their  stations,  laugh- 
ing as  they  went  like  people  going  to  look  upon  a  show. 

"  There  are  but  two  of  them  to  be  '  pitten  doon,'  after 
all,"  I  heard  one  of  the  soldiers  say.  "  Gilbert  Wilson  has 
paid  a  hundred  pound  to  get  off  his  bit  lassie  Agnes." 

And  that  was  the  first  intimation  I  had  that  only  the 
elder  woman,  Margaret  Lauchlison,  whom  I  had  seen  in  the 
Thieves'  Hole  with  her  head  on  her  hands,  and  our  own 
sweet  Margaret  were  to  be  drowned  within  the  flood-mark  of 
the  Blednoch. 

Black,  black  day  !  Would  that  I  could  blot  it  out  of  my 
memory.  Yet  that  men  in  after  times  may  see  what  weak 
maids  and  ailing  women  bore  with  constancy  in  the  dark 
years,  I  set  down  that  day's  doings  as  I  saw  them  —  but 
briefly,  neither  altering  nor  suppressing,  because  of  this 

334 


THE  SANDS  OF  WIGTOWN.  335 

matter  I  cannot  bear  to  write  at  large.  It  was  but  half  an 
hour  before  the  binding  of  the  women  that  Lag  sent  for  me 
—  in  order  that  I  might  see  the  thing  which  was  done,  and, 
as  he  said,  carry  the  word  to  Sandy  and  the  rest  of  the 
saints  at  Edinburgh. 

And  this,  as  I  told  him,  with  all  constancy  I  should  be 
very  fond  to  do. 

Now  the  Blednoch  is  a  slow  stream,  which  ordinarily  flows 
in  the  deep  ditch  of  its  channel,  wimpling  and  twining 
through  the  sands  of  the  bay  of  Wigtown.  The  banks  are 
but  steep  slopes  of  mud,  on  which  if  one  slips  he  goes  to 
the  bottom  with  a  slide.  Up  this  deep  channel  the  sea 
comes  twice  every  day,  damming  back  the  sluggish  stream 
and  brimming  the  banks  at  full  tide.  When  Lag's  men 
took  me  down  to  the  water  edge,  I  saw  the  two  women  al- 
ready tied  to  stakes  set  in  the  ooze  of  the  Blednoch  bank. 
At  the  sight  my  heart  swelled  within  me  at  once  sick  and 
hot.  Margaret  Lauchlison  was  tethered  deepest  down,  her 
stake  set  firm  in  the  bottom  and  the  post  rising  as  high  as 
her  head. 

Nigh  half  way  up  the  steep  bank  stood  our  little  Margaret, 
loosely  reeved  to  a  sunken  stob,  her  hands  clasped  before 
her.  She  still  wore  the  gown  that  I  remember  seeing  upon 
her  when  she  dwelt  with  us  among  the  hills.  But  even  in 
this  pass  she  was  cheerful,  and  lifting  her  eyes  with  a  smile 
she  bade  me  be  so  likewise,  because  that  for  her  there  was 
no  fear  and  but  a  short  pain.  Also  she  called  me  very 
sweetly  "  William,"  and  asked  me  to  commend  her  to  Maisie 
Lennox  —  a  thing  which  more  than  all  went  to  my  heart. 
For  it  told  me  by  the  way  she  said  it,  that  Maisie  and  she 
had  talked  together  of  loves  and  likings,  as  is  all  maidens' 
wont.  The  women  were  not  tightly  tied  to  the  posts,  but 
attached  to  them  with  a  running  rove  of  rope,  by  which 
they  could  be  pulled  close  to  the  stakes,  or  else,  at  the  will 


336  THE   MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

of  the  murderers,  drawn  up  again  to  the  bank,  as  one 
might  draw  a  pitcher  from  a  well. 

Already  was  the  salt  tide  water  beginning  to  flow  upwards 
along  the  Blednoch  channel,  bearing  swirls  of  foam  upon  its 
breast. 

Margaret  Lauchlison,  being  an  aged  woman  of  eighty  years, 
said  no  word  as  the  tide  rose  above  her  breast,  where  lowest 
in  the  river  bed  she  stood  waiting.  Her  head  hung  down, 
and  it  was  not  till  the  water  reached  her  lips  that  she  began 
to  struggle,  nor  did  I  see  her  make  so  much  as  a  movement. 
Yet  she  was  determined  to  die  as  she  had  lived,  an  honest, 
peaceable,  Christian  woman  of  a  good  confession  —  not 
learned,  save  in  the  scholarship  of  God,  but  therein  of 
high  attainment  and  great  experience.  And  all  honour  be 
to  her,  for  even  as  she  determined,  so  she  died. 

Then,  when  some  of  the  soldiers  were  for  fleeching  with 
her  to  take  the  Test,  Lag  cried  out  (for  he  ever  loved  his 
devil's-broth  served  hot)  : 

"  Bide  ye  there  !  'Tis  needless  to  speak  to  the  old 
besom  !  Let  her  go  quick  to  hell !  " 

But  Provost  Coltran,  sober  jpnough  this  morning,  and 
with  other  things  to  think  of  than  the  crows,  come  to  the 
bank  edge.  And  standing  where  his  feet  were  nearly  on  a 
level  with  our  little  Margaret's  head,  he  said  to  her : 

"What  see  ye  down  there,  Margaret  Wilson?  What 
think  ye?  Can  you  with  constancy  suffer  the  choking  of 
the  salt  water  when  it  comes  to  your  turn?  " 

Now,  though  Coltran  was  a  rude  man,  and  pang  full  of 
oaths,  he  spoke  not  so  unfeelingly.  But  to  him  Margaret 
replied,  in  a  sweet  voice  that  wafted  up  like  the  singing  of  a 
psalm,  from  the  sweltering  pit  of  pain  : 

"  I  see  naught  but  Christ  struggling  there  in  the  water  in 
the  person  of  one  of  His  saints  !  " 

Then  the  Provost  came  nearer  still,  and  bending  down 


THE  SANDS  OF  WIGTOWN.  337 

like  an  elder  that  gives  counsel,  said  to  her,  "  Margaret,  ye 
are  young  and  ken  no  better.  We  will  give  you  your  life 
gin  ye  pray  for  the  King.  Will  ye  say  aloud  '  God  save  the 
King'?" 

"  I  desire  the  salvation  of  all  men,"  Margaret  said.  "  May 
God  save  him  an  He  will !  " 

Coltran  rose  with  a  flush  of  triumph  in  his  eye.  He  was 
none  so  bad  a  man,  only  dazed  with  drink  and  bad  company. 

"  She  has  said  it !  "  he  cried,  and  from  far  and  near  the 
people  took  up  the  cry  "  She  has  said  it,  she  has  said  it ! " 
And  some  were  glad  and  some  shook  their  heads  for  what 
they  counted  the  dishonour  of  the  submission. 

Now,  Blednoch  sands  under  Wigtown  town  were  a  sight 
to  behold  that  day.  They  were  black  with  folk,  all  in  scat- 
tering, changing  groups.  There  were  many  clouds  of  folk 
on  the  sands  when  the  lassies  were  "  pitten  doon,"  and  in 
every  little  company  there  was  one  praying.  Through  them 
patrolled  the  soldiers  in  fours,  breaking  up  each  little  band 
of  worshippers,  which  dissolved  only  to  come  together  again 
as  soon  as  they  had  passed. 

Then  the  town  officer,  a  cruel  and  ill-liked  man,  who 
never  did  well  afterwards  all  his  days,  took  his  long-hafted 
halbert,  and,  standing  on  the  verge  of  the  bank,  he  set  the 
end  of  it  to  Margaret  Lauchlison's  neck. 

"  Bide  ye  doon  there  and  clep  wi'  the  partans,  Margaret, 
my  woman  ! "  he  said,  holding  her  head  under  water  till  it 
hung  loose  and  the  life  went  from  it. 

The  elder  woman  thus  having  finished  her  course  with  joy, 
they  unrove  the  nether  rope  and  drew  little  Margaret  up  to 
the  bank,  exhorting  her  to  cry  aloud  "  God  save  the  King  ! '' 
and  also  to  pray  for  him,  that  she  might  get  her  liberty. 

For  they  began  to  be  in  fear,  knowing  that  this  drowning 
of  women  would  make  a  greater  stir  in  the  world  than 
much  shooting  of  men. 


338  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  Lord,  give  him  repentance,  forgiveness,  and,  salvation  I " 
she  said  fervently  and  willingly. 

But  Lag  cried  out  in  his  great  hoarse  voice,  "  Out  upon 
the  wretch  !  We  want  not  such  oaths  nor  prayers.  Winram, 
get  the  Test  through  her  teeth  —  or  down  with  her  again." 

But  she  steadfastly  refused  the  wicked  Test,  the  oath  of 
sin.  As  indeed  we  that  loved  Scotland  and  the  good  way  of 
religion  had  all  learned  to  do. 

"  I  cannot  forswear  my  faith.  I  am  one  of  Christ's  chil- 
dren. Let  me  go  to  Him  ! "  she  said,  being  willing  to  de- 
part, which  she  held  to  be  far  better. 

"Back  with  her  into  the  water!"  cried  Lag.  "The 
sooner  she  will  win  to  hell !  '  Tis  too  good  for  a  rebel 
like  her  ! " 

But  Coltran  said,  "Ye  are  fair  to  see,  Margaret,  lass. 
Think  weel,  hinny  !  Hae  ye  nane  that  ye  love? " 

But  she  answered  him  not  a  word,  being  like  one  other 
before  her,  like  a  lamb  led  to  the  slaughter. 

So  they  tied  her  again  to  the  stake,  where  the  water  was 
deeper  now  and  lappered  on  her  breast,  swirling  yellow  and 
foul  in  oily  bubbles. 

Her  great  head  coverture  of  hair  —  which,  had  I  been  her 
lad,  I  should  have  delighted  to  touch  and  stroke  —  now 
broke  from  the  maiden's  snood,  and  fell  'into  the  water. 
There  it  floated,  making  a  fair  golden  shining  in  the  grimy 
tide,  like  the  halo  which  is  about  the  sun  when  he  rises. 
Also  her  face  was  as  the  face  of  an  angel,  being  turned 
upward  to  God. 

Then  they  began  to  drive  the  folk  from  the  sands  for  fear 
of  what  they  might  see  —  the  beauty  of  the  dying  maid,  and 
go  mad  with  anger  at  the  sight. 

Whereupon,  being  in  extremity,  she  lifted  her  voice  to 
sing,  calm  as  though  it  had  been  an  ordinary  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, and -she  leading  the  worship  at  Glen  Vernock,  as  indeed 
she  did  very  well. 


THE  SANDS   OF  WIGTOWN.  339 

It  was  the  twenty-fifth  Psalm  she  sang,  as  followeth.  And 
when  she  that  was  a  pure  maid  sang  of  her  sins,  it  went  to 
my  heart,  thinking  on  my  own  greater  need. 

"  My  sins  and  faults  of  youth 
Do  Thou,  O  Lord,  forget; 
After  Thy  mercies  think  on  me, 
And  for  Thy  goodness  great." 

It  was  a  sweet  voice  and  carried  far.  But  lest  it  should 
move  the  hearts  of  the  people,  Lag  garred  beat  the  drum. 
And  as-  the  drums  began  to  roll,  1  saw  the  first  salt  wave 
touch  the  bonny  maiden  lips  which  no  man  had  kissed  in 
the  way  of  love. 

Then  the  guards  plucked  me  by  the  arm  roughly  and 
dragged  me  away.  The  drums  waxed  still  louder.  But  as 
we  went  farther  away,  the  voice  of  the  maiden  praising  God 
out  of  the  floods  of  great  waters,  broke  through  them,  rising 
clearer,  besieging  the  throne  of  God  and  breaking  down  the 
hearts  of  men.  I  saw  the  tears  hopping  down  many  a  rude 
soldier's  cheek. 

Nevertheless,  they  swore  incessantly,  cursing  Lag  and 
Winram  back  and  forth,  threatening  to  shoot  them  for  devils 
thus  to  kill  young  maids  and  weakly  women. 

But  once  again  in  the  pauses  of  the  drums  the  words  of 
Margaret's  song  came  clear.  Forget  them  shall  I  never,  till 
I  too  be  on  my  death-bed,  and  can  remember  nothing  but 
"The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,"  which  every  Scot  minds  on  his 
dying  day.  These  were  the  words  she  sang : 

"  Turn  unto  me  Thy  face, 

And  to  me  mercy  show ; 
Because  that  I  am  desolate, 
And  am  brought  very  low. 

"  O  do  Thou  keep  my  soul, 

Do  Thou  deliver  me; 
And  let  me  never  be  ashamed, 
Because  I  trust  in  Thee." 


340  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

After  the  last  line  there  was  a  break  and  a  silence,  and 
no  more  —  and  no  more  !  But  after  the  silence  had  en- 
dured a  space,  there  arose  a  wailing  that  went  from  the  hill 
of  Wigtown  to  the  farthest  shore  of  the  Cree — the  wailing 
of  a  whole  country-side  for  a  young  lass  done  to  death  in  the 
flower  of  her  youth,  in  the  untouched  grace  and  favour  of 
her  virginity. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  MADNESS  OF  THE  BULL  OF  EARLSTOUN. 

How  they  carried  me  to  Edinburgh  I  cannot  stop  to  tell, 
though  the  manner  of  it  was  grievous  enough.  But  in  my 
heart  all  the  way  there  remained  the  fear  that  while  I  was 
laid  up  in  Edinburgh,  Robert  Grierson,  the  wild  beast  of 
Galloway,  might  come  and  take  my  mother  and  Maisie. 
And  do  so  with  them  even  as  he  had  done  with  Margaret 
Lauchlison  and  our  little  Margaret  of  Glen  Vernock.  And 
this  vexed  me  more  than  torments. 

In  Edinburgh  they  cast  me  into  an  inner  den  of  the  prison, 
where  in  the  irons  there  were  ten  men  already.  Then  when 
my  name  was  made  known,  through  the  darkness  and  the 
fearsome  stench  of  the  place,  where  no  fresh  air  had  come 
for  years,  what  was  my  joy  to  hear  the  voice  of  Anton  Len- 
nox bidding  me  be  of  good  cheer — for  that  our  Lord  was  a 
strong  Lord,  and  would  see  me  win  with  credit  from  off  the 
stage  of  life. 

At  this  I  took  heart  of  grace  at  the  kenned  voice  and  face, 
and  we  fell  to  discoursing  about  Maisie  Lennox  and  how  she 
did.  He  told  me  that  to  the  honour  of  the  King's  service 
the  soldiers  had  treated  him  kindly,  and  had  given  him  the 
repute  of  being  a  man  honourable  above  most.  Never- 
theless, the  warrant  for  his  execution  was  daily  expected 
from  London.  He  told  me  also  that  my  brother  Sandy  was 
in  Blackness  Castle,  but  that  it  was  reported  again  that  he 
was  soon  to  be  examined  by  torture.  Indeed  there  was  a 
talk  among  the  guard  that  I  was  to  share  this  with  him, 


342  THE  MEN   OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

which  made  them  the  more  careful  of  me,  as  one  whom  the 
Council  had  an  eye  upon. 

But  it  was  not  long  before  this  matter  was  brought  to  a 
probation.  About  three  of  the  clock  on  the  following  day, 
there  came  officers  to  the  Tolbooth  Port  and  cried  my 
name,  to  which  I  answered  with  a  quaking  heart  —  not  for 
death,  but  for  torture.  So  they  took  me  out  and  delivered 
me  to  the  guard,  who  haled  me  by  back  ways  and  closes  to 
a  little  door  let  into  the  side  of  a  great  hulk  of  grey  wall. 

Along  stone  passages  very  many,  all  dripping  with  damp 
like  a  cellar,  they  dragged  me,  till  beside  three  doors  hung 
with  red  cloth  they  stopped.  Then  instead  of  swearing 
and  jesting  as  they  had  done  before,  the  officers  talked  in 
whispers. 

Presently  a  door  swung  open  very  silently  to  admit  me, 
and  I  set  my  feet  upon  a  soft  carpet.  Then,  also  without 
noise,  the  door  swung  to  again.  I  found  myself  alone  in  a 
cage,  barriered  like  the  cage  of  a  wild  beast.  It  was  at  one 
end  of  a  vast  room  with  black  oaken  ceiling,  carven  and 
panelled.  Before  me  there  was  a  strong  breastwork  of  oak, 
and  an  iron  bar  across,  chin  high.  Beside  me  and  on  either 
hand  were  ranged  strange-looking  engines,  some  of  which  I 
knew  to  be  the  "  boots  "  for  the  torture  of  the  legs,  and  the 
pilniewinks  for  the  bruising  of  the  thumbs.  Also  there  stood 
at  each  side  of  the  platform  a  man  habited  in  black  and 
white  and  with  a  black  mask  over  his  face.  These  men 
stood  with  their  arms  folded,  and  looked  across  the  narrow 
space  at  one  another  as  though  they  had  been  carven 
statues. 

The  rest  of  the  great  room  was  occupied  by  a  table,  and 
at  the  table  there  sat  a  dignified  company.  Then  I  under- 
stood that  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  Privy  Council  of 
Scotland,  which  for  twenty-five  years  had  bent  the  land  to 
the  King's  will.  At  the  head  sat  cruel  Queensberry,  with 


THE  MADNESS   OF  THE  BULL.  343 

a  face  louring  with  hate  and  guile — or  so  it  seemed,  seen 
through  bars  of  oak  and  underneath  gauds  of  iron. 

Still  more  black  and  forbidding  was  the  face  of  the 
"  Bluidy  Advocate,"  Sir  George  Mackenzie,  who  sat  at  the 
table-foot,  and  wrote  incessantly  in  his  books.  I  knew 
none  other  there,  save  the  fox  face  of  Tarbet,  called  the 
Timeserver. 

When  I  was  brought  in,  they  were  talking  over  some 
slight  matter  concerning  a  laird  who  had  been  complaining 
that  certain  ill-set  persons  were  carrying  away  sea  tangle 
from  his  foreshore.  And  I  was  not  pleased  that  they  should 
have  other  thoughts  in  their  minds,  when  I  was  before  them 
in  peril  of  my  life. 

At  last  Sir  George  Mackenzie  turned  him  about  and  said, 
"  Officer,  whom  have  we  here  ?  " 

The  officer  of  the  court  made  answer  very  shortly  and 
formally,  "  William  Gordon,  son  of  umquhile  William  Gordon 
of  Earlstoun  in  Galloway,  and  brother  of  the  aforementioned 
Alexander  Gordon,  condemned  traitor  from  the  prison  of 
Blackness,  presently  to  be  examined." 

"Ah!"  said  Mackenzie,  picking  up  his  pen  again,  "the 
Glenkens  messan  !  We'll  wait  for  the  muckle  hound  and 
take  both  the  lowsy  tykes  thegether  !  " 

But  Queensberry,  as  was  his  custom  at  Council,  ran 
counter  to  the  advocate  in  his  desire,  and  commanded 
presently  to  interrogate  me. 

The  Duke  asked  me  first  if  I  had  been  at  the  wounding 
of  the  Duke  Wellwood. 

I  answered  him  plainly  that  I  had.  But  that  it  was  a  fair 
fight,  and  that  the  Duke  and  his  men  had  made  the  first 
onslaught. 

"  You  have  proof  of  that  at  your  hand,  no  doubt,"  said  he, 
and  passed  on  as  though  that  had  been  a  thing  of  little  import 
—  as  indeed,  in  the  light  of  my  succeeding  admissions,  it  was. 


344  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  You  were  at  Sanquhar  town  on  the  day  of  the  Declara- 
tion?" he  said,  looking  sharply  at  me,  no  doubt  expecting 
a  denial  or  equivocation. 

Now  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  must  most  certainly  die,  so 
I  cared  not  if  I  did  it  with  some  credit.  For  the  whiner 
got  even  less  mercy  from  these  men,  than  he  that  defied 
and  outfaced  them. 

"I  was  at  Sanquhar,  and  with  this  hand  I  raised  the 
Banner  of  Blue  ! "  I  said. 

"  Note  that,  advocate,"  said  Tarbet,  smiling  foxily.  "  The 
King  hath  a  special  interest  in  all  that  took  his  name  in  vain 
at  Sanquhar." 

Mackenzie  glanced  with  a  black,  side-cocking  look  of 
interest  at  the  hand  I  held  up,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  shall  know 
that  again  when  I  see  it  on  the  Netherbow  ! " 

"  You  were  at  Ayrsmoss,  and  won  clear  ?  "  was  the  next 
interrogatory. 

"  I  was  one  of  two  that  broke  through  both  lines  of  the 
troops  when  we  came  to  the  charge  ! "  I  said,  with  perhaps 
more  of  the  braggart  than  I  care  now  to  think  on. 

Then  all  the  Council  looked  up,  and  there  was  a  sudden 
stir  of  interest. 

"  Blood  of  St.  Crispin  ! "  said  Queensberry,  "  but  ye  do 
not  look  like  it.  Yet  I  suppose  it  must  be  so." 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Sir  George  the  Advocate  shortly,  flicking 
a  parchment  with  the  feather  of  his  quill  pen.  He  had  the 
record  before  him. 

"  Is  there  anything  more  that  ye  were  in  ?  Being  as  good 
as  headed  already,  a  little  more  will  not  matter.  It  will  be 
to  your  credit  when  the  saints  come  to  put  up  your  tomb, 
and  scribe  your  testimony  on  it." 

"  I  am  no  saint,"  said  I,  "  though  I  love  not  Charles 
Stuart  Neither,  saving  your  honourable  presences,  do  I 
love  the  way  that  this  realm  is  guided.  But  if  it  please  you 


THE  MADNESS  OF  THE  BULL.  345 

to  ken,  I  have  been  in  all  that  has  chanced  since  Bothwell. 
I  was  at  Enterkin  the  day  we  reft  the  prisoners  from  you. 
I  was  in  the  ranks  of  the  Seven  Thousand  when,  at  the  Con- 
venticle at  Shalloch-on-Minnoch,  the  hillmen  made  Clavers 
and  Strachan  draw  off.  I  was  taken  at  the  Tolbooth  of 
Wigtown  trying  to  deliver  a  prisoner,  whom  ye  had  re- 
prieved. And  had  there  been  anything  else  done,  I  should 
have  been  in  it." 

The  Council  leaned  back  in  their  chairs  almost  to  a  man, 
and  smilingly  looked  at  one  another.  The  President  spoke 
after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Ye  are  a  brisk  lad  and  ill  to  content,  but  your  sheet  is 
gallantly  filled.  So  that  I  think  ye  deserve  heading  instead 
of  hanging,  which  is  certainly  a  great  remission.  I  shall 
e'en  take  the  liberty  of  shaking  hands  with  you  and  wishing 
you  a  speedy  passage  and  a  sharp  axe.  Officer,  the  prisoner 
is  in  your  care  till  his  warrant  comes  from  London." 

And  to  my  astonishment  Queensbury  turned  round  and 
very  ceremoniously  held  out  his  hand  to  me,  which  I  took 
through  the  bars. 

"  I  shall  never  again  deny  that  Gordon  blood  is  very  good 
blood,"  he  said. 

Then  they  brought  in  Sandy,  looming  up  like  a  tower 
between  the  warders.  He  had  a  strange,  dazed  look  about 
him,  and  his  hair  had  grown  till  he  peered  out  of  the 
hassock,  like  to  an  owl  out  of  an  ivy  bush,  as  the  proverb  says. 

They  asked  a  few  questions  of  him,  to  which  he  gave  but 
mumbled  replies.  If  he  saw  me  he  never  showed  it.  But 
I  knew  him  of  old,  and  a  sly  tod  was  Sandy. 

Then  Sir  George  Mackenzie  rose,  and  turning  to  him, 
read  the  King's  mandate,  which  declared  that,  in  spite  of 
his  underlying  sentence  of  death,  he  was  to  be  tortured,  to 
make  him  declare  the  truth  in  the  matter  of  Fergusson  the 
plotter,  and  the  treason  anent  the  King's  life. 


346  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then,  the  black  wrath  of  his  long  prisonment  suddenly 
boiling  over,  Sandy  took  hold  on  the  great  iron  bar  before 
him  and  bent  his  strength  to  it  —  which,  when  he  was 
roused,  was  like  the  strength  of  Samson.  With  one  rive  he 
tore  it  from  its  fastenings,  roaring  all  the  while  with  that 
terrible  voice  of  his,  which  used  to  set  the  cattle  wild  with 
fear  when  they  heard  it,  and  which  even  affrighted  men 
grown  and  bearded.  The  two  men  in  masks  sprang  upon 
him,  but  he  seized  them  one  in  each  hand  and  cuffed  and 
buffeted  them  against  the  wall,  till  I  thought  he  had  splat- 
tered their  brains  on  the  stones.  Indeed,  I  looked  to  see. 
But  though  there  was  blood  enough,  there  were  no  brains  to 
speak  of. 

Then  very  hastily  some  of  the  Council  rose  to  their  feet 
to  call  the  guard,  but  the  door  had  been  locked  during  the 
meeting,  and  none  for  a  moment  could  open  it.  It  was 
fearsome  to  see  Sandy.  His  form  seemed  to  tower  to  the 
ceiling.  A  yellow  foam,  like  spume  of  the  sea,  dropped 
from  his  lips.  He  roared  at  the  Council  with  open  mouth, 
and  twirled  the  bar  over  his  head.  With  one  leap  he  sprang 
over  the  barrier,  and  at  this  all  the  councillors  drew  their 
gowns  about  them  and  rushed  pell-mell  for  the  door,  with 
Sandy  thundering  at  their  heels  with  his  iron  bar.  It  was 
all  wonderfully  fine  to  see.  For  Sandy,  with  more  sense 
than  might  have  been  expected  of  him,  being  so  raised, 
lundered  them  about  the  broadest  of  their  gowns  with  the 
bar,  till  the  building  was  filled  with  the  cries  of  the  mighty 
Privy  Council  of  Scotland.  I  declare  I  laughed  heartily, 
though  under  sentence  of  death,  and  felt  that  well  as  I 
thought  I  had  borne  myself,  Sandy  the  Bull  had  done  a 
thousand  times  better. 

Then  from  several  doors  the  soldiery  came  rushing  in,  and 
in  short  space  Sandy,  after  levelling  a  file  with  his  gaud  of 
iron,  was  overpowered  by  numbers.  Nevertheless,  he  con- 


THE  MADNESS  OF  THE  BULL.  347 

tinued  to  struggle  till  they  twined  him  helpless  in  coils  of 
rope.  In  spite  of  all,  it  furnished  work  for  the  best  part  of 
a  company  to  take  him  to  the  Castle,  whither,  "  for  a  change 
of  air,"  and  to  relieve  his  madness  he  was  remanded,  by 
order  of  the  Council  when  next  they  met.  But  there  was 
no  more  heard  of  examining  Sandy  by  torture. 

And  it  was  a  tale  in  the  city  for  many  a  day  how  Sandy 
Gordon  cleared  the  chamber  of  the  Privy  Council.  So  not 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  was  proud  of  my  brother,  and 
would  have  given  all  the  sense  I  had,  which  is  no  little,  for 
the  thews  and  bones  to  have  done  likewise. 


CHAPTER   LIII. 

UNDER   SENTENCE   OF  DEATH. 

So  waiting  the  arrival  and  the  day  of  my  doom,  I  contin- 
ued to  abide  in  the  Tolbooth.  Anton  Lennox,  also  waiting, 
as  he  said,  his  bridegroom  day  of  marriage  and  coronation, 
was  with  me.  In  the  night  alone  we  had  some  peace  and 
quiet.  For  they  had  turned  in  upon  us,  to  our  horror,  that 
wind-filled  fool,  John  Gib  —  whom  for  his  follies,  Anton 
Lennox  had  lundered  with  a  stick  upon  the  Flowe  of  the 
Deer-Slunk. 

With  him  was  Davie  Jamie  the  scholar,  now  grown  well 
nigh  as  mad  as  himself.  Sometimes  the  jailors  played 
with  them,  and  said,  "John,  this  is  your  Sunday's  meal  of 
meat!" 

Whereupon,  so  filled  with  moon-madness  were  they,  that 
they  would  refuse  good  victual,  because  it  had  been  given 
them  upon  a  day  with  a  heathen  name.  Or,  again,  the  more 
ill-set  of  the  prisoners  made  their  game  of  them  —  for  they 
were  not  all  of  them  that  suffered  for  their  faith,  who  were 
with  us  in  the  Canongate  Tolbooth.  But  many  city  appren- 
tices also  that  had  been  in  brawls  or  had  broken  their 
indentures.  And,  truth  to  tell,  we  were  somewhat  glad  of 
the  regardless  birkies.  For  when  we  were  dull  of  heart  they 
made  sport  with  us,  and  we  were  numerous  enough  to  keep 
them  from  interfering  with  our  worship. 

So  these  wild  loons  would  say : 

"  Prophesy  to  us,  John  Gib,  for  we  know  that  thou  hast 
the  devil  ever  at  thine  elbow.  Let  us  see  thy  face  shining, 

348 


UNDER  SENTENCE  OF  DEATH.         349 

as  it  did  at  the  Spout  of  Auchentalloch,  when  ye  danced 
naked  and  burned  the  Bible." 

And  whether  it  was  with  our  expectant  looking  for  it,  or 
whether  the  man  really  had  some  devilry  about  him,  certain 
it  is  that  in  the  gloom  of  the  corner,  where  in  his  quiet  spells 
he  abode,  there  seemed  to  be  ofttimes  a  horrible  face  near 
to  his  own,  and  a  little  bluish  light  thrown  upon  his  hair  and 
eyes.  This  was  seen  by  most  in  the  dungeon,  though,  for 
my  own  part,  I  confess  I  could  see  nothing. 

Then  he  would  be  taken  with  accesses  of  howling,  like  to 
a  moonstruck  dog  or  a  rutting  hart  on  the  mountains  of 
heather.  And  sometimes,  when  the  fear  of  Anton  Lennox 
was  upon  him,  he  would  try  to  stop  his  roaring,  thrusting  his 
own  napkin  into  his  mouth.  But  for  all  that  the  devil  within 
him  would  drive  out  the  napkin  and  some  most  fearsome 
yells  behind  it,  as  a  pellet  is  driven  from  a  boy's  tow  gun. 

This  he  did  mostly  during  worship — which  was  held  thrice 
a  day  in  the  Tolbooth,  and  helped  to  pass  the  time.  At  such 
seasons  he  became  fairly  possessed,  and  was  neither  to  hold 
nor  bind.  So  that  for  common  they  had  to  bring  Anton 
Lennox  to  him  with  a  quarter- staff,  with  which  he  threatened 
him.  And  at  sight  of  old  Anton,  Gib,  though  a  big  strong 
man,  would  run  behind  the  door  and  crouch  there  on  his 
hunkers,  howling  grievously  like  a  dog. 

He  was  ordered  into  leg-irons,  but  his  ravings  pleased  the 
Duke  of  York  so  much  (because  that  he  wanted  to  tar  us  all 
with  the  same  stick)  that  he  had  them  taken  off.  Also  he 
bade  give  him  and  David  Jamie  as  much  paper  and  ink  as  ever 
they  wanted,  and  to  send  him  copies  of  all  that  they  wrote, 
for  his  entertainment.  But  in  time  of  worship  after  this, 
Anton  Lennox  ordered  four  of  the  strongest  and  biggest  men 
to  sit  upon  John  Gib,  streeked  out  on  the  floor,  as  men  sit 
together  upon  a  bench  in  the  kirk  at  sermon-hearing.  And 
we  were  glad  when  we  fell  on  this  plan,  for  it  discouraged 


350  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

the  devil  more  than  anything,  so  that  he  acknowledged  the 
power  of  the  gospel  and  quit  his  roaring. 

Yet  I  think  all  this  rough  play  kept  up  our  hearts,  and 
stayed  us  from  thinking  all  the  time  upon  that  day  of  our 
bitter,  final  testifying,  which  was  coming  so  soon.  To  make 
an  end  now  of  Muckle  John  Gib,  I  heard  that  he  was  sent 
by  ship  to  the  colonies,  and  that  in  America  he  gained  much 
honour  among  the  heathen  for  his  converse  with  the  devil. 
Nor  did  the  godly  men  that  are  there,  ever  discover  Anton 
Lennox's  weighty  method  of  exorcism  —  than  which  I  ween 
there  is  none  better,  for  even  the  devil  needs  breath  as  well 
as  another. 

But  for  all  this,  there  was  never  an  hour  that  chimed,  but 
I  would  wake  and  remember  that  at  the  sound  of  a  trumpet 
the  port  might  any  moment  be  opened  and  I  be  summoned 
forth  to  meet  my  doom.  And  Anton  Lennox  dealt  with  me 
there  in  the  Cannongate  Tolbooth  for  my  soul's  peace,  and 
that  very  faithfully.  For  there  were  not  wanting  among  the 
prisoners  those  that  made  no  scruple  to  call  me  a  sword-and- 
buckler  Covenanter,  because  I  would  not  follow  them  in  all 
their  protests  and  remonstrances.  But  Anton  Lennox  warred 
with  them  with  the  weapons  of  speech  for  the  both  of  us,  and 
told  them  how  that  I  had  already  witnessed  a  good  confes- 
sion and  that  before  many  witnesses.  He  said  also  that 
there  would  not  be  wanting  One,  when  I  had  overpassed  my 
next  stage,  to  make  confession  of  William  Gordon  before 
the  angels  of  heaven.  Which  saying  made  them  to  cavil  no 
more. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

ROBBERY   ON  THE   KING'S   HIGHWAY. 

Now  that  which  follows  concerns  not  myself,  but  Maisie 
Lennox  and  others  that  were  at  this  time  forth  of  the  Tol- 
booth.  Yet,  because  the  story  properly  comes  in  here,  I 
pray  the  reader  to  suffer  it  gladly,  for  without  it  I  cannot 
came  to  my  tale's  ending,  as  I  must  speedily  do.  How  I 
came  to  know  it,  is  no  matter  now,  but  shall  without  doubt 
afterwards  appear. 

While  Anton  Lennox  and  I  lay  in  the  Tolbooth,  those  that 
loved  us  were  not  idle.  Wat  moved  Kate  and  Kate  moved 
Roger  McGhie  of  Balmaghie.  So  that  he  set  off  to  London 
to  see  the  King,  in  order  to  get  remission  for  me,  and  if 
need  be  to  pay  my  fine,  because  there  was  nothing  he  would 
not  do  to  pleasure  his  daughter.  But  though  his  interces- 
sion did  good  in  delaying  the  warrant,  yet  my  owning  of  the 
raising  the  flag  at  Sanquhar  was  too  much  for  the  King,  and 
in  due  course  my  warrant  sped ;  of  which  the  bruit  came 
north  with  a  servant  of  Balmaghie's  who  rode  like  the  wings 
of  the  wind.  But  indeed  I  was  not  greatly  disappointed,  for 
since  my  declaration  to  the  Privy  Council,  I  never  expected 
any  other  end. 

As  soon,  however,  as  the  news  came  to  the  house  of 
Balmaghie,  Maisie  Lennox  betook  herself  to  the  woodside 
to  think.  There  she  stayed  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour, 
pacing  up  and  down  more  like  an  aged  man  than  a  young 
maiden.  Then,  as  my  informant  tells  me,  she  came  in 
again  with  a  face  wonderfully  assured. 

35* 


352  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

"  Give  me  a  horse  and  suit  of  lad's  clothes,"  she  said  to 
her  who  kept  the  drapery  closets  and  wardrobes  at  the 
house  of  Balmaghie. 

"Preserve  us,  lass,  for  what  wad  ye  hae  lad's  claes?" 
said  the  ancient  housekeeper.  But  without  waiting  to  reply, 
Maisie  Lennox  went  and  got  them. 

"  The  lassie's  gane  wud  !  *  There's  nae  reason  in  her," 
she  cried  out  in  amazement. 

But  indeed  it  was  a  time  when  men  and  women  were  not 
inclined  to  stand  upon  reasons.  For  each  being  supposed 
to  have  his  neck  deep  in  the  tow,  he  had  no  doubt  his  own 
good  logic  for  whatever  he  proposed. 

So  Mistress  Crombie,  housekeeper  to  the  Laird  of  Balma- 
ghie, without  further  question,  fitted  Maisie  Lennox  with  a 
suit  of  lad's  clothes,  which  (having  taken  off  and  again 
suitably  attired  herself)  she  strapped  in  a  roll  on  her  saddle 
bow  and  covered  with  a  plaid.  Then,  dressed  like  a  maid 
that  goes  to  her  first  place  and  rides  a  borrowed  horse,  she 
took  her  way  eastward.  Now  at  that  time,  so  important 
were  the  proclamations  and  Privy  Council  matters,  that 
every  week  there  rode  a  post  who  carried  naught  but 
reprieves  and  sentences. 

It  had  been  the  custom  of  late,  ever  since  the  numer- 
ous affrays  near  /the  border  of  Berwick,  that  this  messenger 
of  life  and  death  should  ride  by  Carlisle  and  Moffat  to 
Edinburgh. 

Now  this  young  maid,  contrary  to  the  wont  of  women 
folk,  had  all  her  life  said  little  and  done  much.  So  when 
Maisie  Lennox  came  to  the  side  of  the  Little  Queensberry 
Hill,  having  ridden  all  the  way  sedately,  as  a  sober  maiden 
ought,  she  went  aside  into  a  thicket  and  changed  her  woman's 
appearance  to  that  of  a  smart  birkie  who  rides  to  college. 
It  was  about  the  time  when  the  regents  call  up  such  to  the 

*  Mad. 


ROBBERY  ON  THE  KING'S  HIGHWAY.  353 

beginning  of  their  classes.  So  it  was  a  most  feasible-like 
thing,  and  indeed  there  were  a  good  many  upon  the  roads. 
But  Maisie  Lennox  kept  out  of  their  company,  for  these 
wandering  students  are  ever  inclined  to  be  goatish,  and  full 
of  impish  pranks,  whether  as  I  saw  them  at  Groningen  or  in 
Edinburgh  town. 

So  she  (that  was  for  the  time  being  he)  came  riding  into 
the  town  of  Moffat,  just  when  the  London  state  messenger 
was  expected.  There  my  lass  entered  the  hostelry  of  the 
White  Hart,  which  was  kept  by  a  decent  woman  named 
Catherine  Cranstoun.  As  a  ruffling  young  gallant,  she  strode 
in,  with  her  chest  well  out  and  one  hand  on  the  hilt  of  the 
rapier,  which  she  held  modishly  thrust  forward.  But  Maisie, 
when  she  found  herself  within,  was  a  little  daunted  to  see  a 
great  pair  of  pistols,  a  sword,  and  other  furniture  of  a  King's 
rider  lie  upon  the  table.  While  from  within  a  little  chamber, 
the  door  of  which  stood  ajar,  she  heard  the  sound  as  of  one 
who  sleeps,  and  snores  sonorously  in  his  sleep. 

"A  good  day  to  ye,  Mistress  Cranstoun,"  said  Maisie 
boldly,  and  most  like  a  clerkish  student.  "Will  ye  get  me 
a  drink  of  good  caller  water?  " 

"That,"  said  the  good  wife  shrewishly,  turning  her  eyes 
scorningly  across  her  nose,  "  is  not  good  asking  at  a  change- 
house.  I  warrant  we  do  not  live  and  pay  our  winter's  oats 
by  sellin'  caller  water  to  student  birkies  !  " 

"  So,  good  madam,"  said  our  Maisie  again ;  "  but  if  you 
will  get  me  a  drink  from  your  famous  medicinal  spring  —  a 
good  fresh  quart  —  most  gladly  I  will  pay  for  it  —  aye,  as  if 
it  had  been  claret  wine  of  the  best  bin  in  your  cellar." 

At  hearing  of  which  the  landlady  pricked  up  her  ears. 

"  I  will  e'en  gae  bring  it  myseP,"  she  said  in  a  changed 
voice,  for  such  orders  came  not  every  day.  "It  is  for  a 
wager,"  she  thought.  "  The  loons  are  ever  after  some  daft 
ploy." 

2A 


354  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

As  she  went  to  the  door  she  had  a  thought. 

"  Mind  ye,"  she  said,  "  meddle  not  wi'  the  pistols,  for  they 
belong  to  one  on  the  King's  service." 

So  she  set  out  to  bring  the  water  in  a  wooden  cogie  with 
a  handle. 

As  soon  as  she  was  fairly  gone,  Maisie  stole  on  tiptoe  to 
the  door  of  the  room  whence  the  snoring  proceeded.  She 
peeped  circumspectly  within,  and  there  on  a  rough  bed  with 
the  neck  of  his  buff  riding- coat  thrown  open,  lay  the  King's 
rider,  a  great  clean  shaven  fellow  with  a  cropped  head,  and 
ear-rings  in  his  ears.  The  edge  of  the  mail  bag  peeped  from 
under  the  pillow,  and  the  ribbons  of  seals  showed  beneath 
the  flaps. 

Maisie  laid  her  hand  on  her  heart  to  still  its  painful  beat- 
ing. Clearly  there  was  no  chance  of  drawing  the  bag  from 
under  the  rider's  head,  for  his  hand  was  twisted  firmly  in  the 
strap.  It  was  with  mighty  grief  in  her  heart  that  Maisie 
Lennox  stepped  back.  But  at  sight  of  the  pistols  on  the 
table,  a  thought  and  a  hope  sprang  up  together  within  her. 
She  hasted  to  take  them  up  and  draw  the  charges,  leaving 
only  a  sprinkling  of  powder  in  the  pan  of  each. 

And  as  she  rode  off,  she  bore  with  her  the  landlady's  bene- 
diction, for  the  good  wife  had  neve  r  been  so  paid  for  caller 
spring  water  before. 

It  was  at  the  entrance  to  the  wild  place  known  as  the 
Devil's  Beef  Tub,  near  the  last  wood  on  the  upward  way 
over  the  hills,  that  Maisie  waited  for  the  King's  rider. 
There  were,  no  doubt,  many  thoughts  in  her  heart,  but  she 
did  not  dwell  upon  them  —  save  it  might  be  upon  this  one, 
that  if  the  rider  discovered  that  the  charges  had  been 
drawn,  it  would  certainly  go  ill  with  her  and  worse  with 
those  whom  she  had  come  out  to  save. 

What  wonder  then  if  her  maid's  heart  flew  faster  even  than 
Gay  Garland  had  done  when  he  fled  before  the  gypsy  clan. 


ROBBERY  ON  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY.  355 

At  last,  after  long  waiting,  she  heard  far  off  the  clatter  of 
a  horse's  feet  on  the  road,  and  her  courage  returned  to  her. 
As  the  King's  messenger  came  trotting  easily  down  an 
incline,  she  rode  as  quietly  out  of  a  byway  into  the  road 
and  let  him  range  alongside. 

With  a  polite  toss  of  the  reins,  as  was  then  the  modish 
fashion,  she  bade  him  good  day. 

"Ye  are  a  bonny  birkie.  Hae  ye  ony  sisters?"  said  the 
man  in  the  Lothian  tongue. 

Maisie  answered  him  no — an  only  bairn  and  riding  to 
the  college  at  Edinburgh. 

"  Ye'll  be  a  braw  student  no  doubt." 

She  told  him  so-so. 

"  I'se  warrant  ye  !  "  said  he,  for  he  was  jovial  by  nature, 
and  warmed  with  Mistress  Cranstoun's  wine. 

So  they  rode  on  in  friendly  enough  talk  till  they  were 
nearing  the  wood,  when  Maisie,  knowing  that  the  time  had 
come,  wheeled  about  and  bade  him  "  Stand!  "  At  the  same 
time  she  pointed  a  pistol  at  his  head. 

"Deliver  me  your  mails,"  she  said,  "or  I  shall  take  your 
life ! " 

The  man  laughed  as  at  a  pleasant  jest. 

"Gae  wa'  wi'  ye,  birkie.  Nane  o'  your  college  tricks 
wi'  me,  or  ye  may  aiblins  come  to  a  mishap.  I  am  no'  a 
man  to  tak'  offence,  but  this  somewhat  passes  merrymak- 
ing ! " 

But  when  Maisie  pulled  the  other  pistol  and  levelled  it 
also  at  his  head,  the  rider  hesitated  no  longer,  but  pulled 
out  his  own  and  took  aim  at  her  heart. 

"  Your  blood  be  on  your  own  head,  then  !  I  never  missed 
yet ! "  he  cried,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

But  the  powder  only  flashed  in  the  pan.  With  an  oath 
he  pulled  the  other  and  did  likewise  with  it,  but  quite  as 
fruitlessly. 


356  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

Then  he  leaped  down  and  tried  to  grip  Maisie's  horse  by 
the  bridle,  for  he  was  a  stark  carle  and  no  coward. 

But  her  horse  obeyed  the  guiding  hand.  With  a  swing 
to  the  left  she  swept  out  of  his  reach,  so  as  to  catch  the 
bridle  of  the  horse  which  carried  the  mails  and  which,  fresh 
from  the  stable,  was  inclined  to  crop  the  herbage.  Then  she 
rode  away  leaving  the  man  standing  amazed  and  speechless 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  He  started  to  run  after  his 
assailant,  but  Maisie  sent  a  bullet  back,  which  halted  him. 
For  by  chance  it  struck  a  stone  among  the  red  dust  at 
his  feet,  and  went  through  between  his  legs  buzzing  like  a 
bumblebee.  And  this  is  indeed  a  thing  which  would  have 
halted  most  folk. 

It  was  with  a  fearful  heart  that  Maisie  Lennox,  in  the 
deepest  shades  of  the  wood,  ripped  open  the  bags.  Almost 
the  first  paper  she  came  upon  was  her  father's  death  warrant. 
With  trembling  hand  she  turned  over  the  papers  to  find 
mine  also.  But  there  were  only  Privy  Council  letters  and 
documents  in  cypher.  Over  and  over  she  turned  them,  her 
heart,  I  doubt  not,  hammering  loudly.  But  there  was  not 
another  warrant  anywhere.  It  must  have  been  sent  forward 
by  another  hand.  It  might  even  be  in  Edinburgh  already, 
she  thought.  Almost  she  had  returned  the  letters  to  the 
bag  and  left  them  at  the  tree  foot,  when  she  noted  a  little 
bulge  in  the  thickness  of  the  leather  near  the  clasp.  In  a 
moment  she  had  her  knife  within,  and  there,  enclosed  in  a 
cypher  letter  to  the  President  of  the  Council,  was  a  free 
pardon,  signed  and  sealed,  wanting  only  the  name  inserted. 
Without  doubt  it  was  intended  for  some  of  the  private 
friends  of  Duke  Queensberry.  But  at  sight  of  it  Maisie's 
heart  gave  a  still  greater  stound,  and  without  a  moment  for 
consideration  she  galloped  off  towards  Edinburgh,  upon  the 
fresh  horse  of  his  Majesty's  post  rider.  When  she  came  to 
the  first  woods  over  the  crown  of  the  dreary  hill  road,  she 


ROBBERY  ON  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY.  357 

put  off  the  lad's  apparel  and  dressed  again  as  the  quiet  maid 
upon  her  travels,  whom  none  would  suspect  of  bold  robbery 
of  his  Majesty's  despatches  upon  his  own  highway. 

Then  as  she  took  the  road  to  Edinburgh,  consider  what  a 
turmoil  and  battle  there  was  in  her  heart.  She  says  that 
she  saw  not  the  road  all  the  way  for  thinking,  and  I  doubt 

it  not.  "  My  father  or  my  lad "  she  argued  with 

herself.  "  Which  name  shall  I  put  in  ?  It  may  not  serve 
them  long,  but  it  will  save  them  at  least  this  day  from 
death." 

And  in  the  clatter  of  her  horse's  feet  she  found  no 
answer  to  her  question. 

Then  she  told  over  to  herself  all  that  her  father  had  done 
for  her  since  she  remembered  —  the  afternoons  when  it  was 
the  Sabbath  on  the  pleasant  green  bank  at  the  Duchrae  loan- 
ing end,  the  words  of  wise  counsel  spoken  there,  the  strug- 
gle at  the  cave  when  the  cruel  Mardrochat  was  sent  to  his 
account.  She  did  not  forget  one.  Other  things  also  she 
owns  that  she  thought  of.  "  Whatever  may  happen  to  me, 
I  must  —  I  shall  save  my  father  !  "  she  concluded. 

She  was  on  a  lonely  place  on  the  moors,  with  deep 
moss-hags  and  holes  in  the  turf  where  men  had  cut  peat. 
These  were  now  filled  with  black  water.  She  stopped,  took 
out  the  warrant  for  her  father's  execution,  tore  it  into  a 
thousand  pieces,  and  sunk  it  carefully  in  the  deep  hag.  The 
white  horse  of  the  King's  rider  meanwhile  stood  patiently 
by  till  she  mounted  again  —  I  warrant  as  swiftly  as  she  used 
to  do  in  the  old  days  at  the  Duchrae. 

But  the  tearing  of  the  warrant  would  only  delay  and  not 
prevent  her  father's  death.  She  saw  that  clearly.  There 
came  to  her  the  thought  of  the  free  pardon.  To  inscribe  a 
name  in  the  blank  space  meant  a  release  from  prison  and 
the  chance  of  escape.  She  resolved  to  write  it  when  she 
came  to  the  next  change-house. 


358  THE   MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

But  as  she  rode  she  fell  to  the  thinking,  and  the  question 
that  surged  to  and  fro  in  her  heart,  like  the  tide  in  a  sea- 
cave,  was — which  name  would  be  found  written  on  that 
pardon  when  she  rode  to  the  Tolbooth  of  Edinburgh  to 
deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  the  Captain  of  the  Guard. 

As  she  thought  she  urged  her  horse  the  faster,  so  that  the 
sooner  she  might  come  to  the  change-house  and  settle  the 
question. 

"  He  is  my  father,"  she  said  over  and  over,  dwelling  on 
all  that  her  father  had  been  to  her.  "  I  cannot  —  I  will  not 
think  of  others  before  him.  It  is  my  father's  name  I  will 
write  in  the  pardon  —  I  must,  yes  I  must!" 

And  the  name  of  another  did  she  not  mention  at  all,  as 
I  have  been  informed.  At  last  she  came  to  the  door  of  the 
change-house,  and,  throwing  her  reins  over  the  tieing  post  at 
the  gate,  she  went  in  boldly. 

"  Bring  me  an  inkhorn  and  a  goose-quill !  "  she  cried  to 
the  dame  of  the  inn,  forgetting  that  she  had  donned  her 
maid's  clothes  again,  and  speaking  in  the  hectoring  voice 
of  the  birkie  student.  She  threw  a  silver  coin  on  the  table 
with  a  princely  air  that  suited  but  indifferently  with  the  sober 
fashion  of  her  maiden's  dress.  And  among  the  mutchkins 
on  the  ribbed  and  rimmed  deal  table,  she  squared  herself 
to  write  in  the  name  upon  her  free  pardon. 

She  set  her  pen  to  the  parchment  bravely.  Then  she 
stopped,  took  a  long  breath  and  held  it,  as  though  it  were 
the  dying  breath  of  one  well-beloved  which  she  had  in  her 
keeping.  With  sudden  access  of  resolve  she  began  a  bold 
initial.  She  changed  it.  Then  she  wrote  again  hastily  with 
a  set  face,  but  holding  her  hand  over  the  writing,  as  though 
to  shield  the  words  from  sight.  Which  being  done,  she 
looked  at  what  she  had  written  with  a  blanched  and  terror- 
stricken  countenance. 

No  sooner  was  the  ink  dry,  than  bending  again  to  the 


ROBBERY  ON  THE  KING'S   HIGHWAY.  359 

paper,  she  began  eagerly  to  scrape  at  it  with  her  finger-nail, 
as  though  she  would  even  yet  change  her  thought. 

But  as  she  rubbed  the  parchment,  which  was  very  fine 
and  soft,  part  of  it  curled  up  at  the  edge  into  a  tiny  roll  like 
a  shaving  of  bark  when  one  cuts  a  white  birch.  Instantly 
Maisie  discerned  that  there  were  two  parchments  instead 
of  one. 

With  a  light  and  cunning  hand  she  separated  them  care- 
fully. They  had  been  secretly  attached  so  as  to  look  like 
one.  Casting  her  eyes  rapidly  over  the  second  parchment, 
her  heart  leaped  within  her  to  find  that  it  was  another 
pardon,  the  duplicate  of  the  first,  and,  like  it,  duly  signed 
and  sealed.  It  was  a  moment's  work  to  write  in  the  other 
name  upon  this  great  discovery.  Then  throwing,  in  her  joy, 
a  gold  piece  upon  the  table  beside  the  shilling,  she  mounted 
at  the  stance,  and  rode  away  in  the  direction  of  the  capital. 

"  My  word  ! "  said  the  good  wife  of  the  change-house, 
gazing  after  her,  "  but  that  madam  doesna  want  confidence. 
I  doot  she  will  be  after  no  good  ! " 

"She  doesna  want  siller,"  quoth  her  husband,  gathering 
up  the  money,  "  and  that's  a  deal  more  to  the  point  in  a 
change-house  ! " 

But  Maisie  Lennox  has  never  told  to  any  —  not  even  to 
me,  who  have  some  right  to  know  her  secrets  —  that  name 
which  she  first  wrote  when  she  had  to  choose  between  her 
father's  life  and  her  lover's. 

She  only  says,  "  Let  every  maid  answer  in  her  own  heart 
which  name  she  would  have  written,  being  in  my  place,  that 
day  in  the  change-house  ! " 

And  even  so  may  I  leave  it  to  all  the  maidens  that  may 
read  my  history  to  let  their  hearts  answer  which.  For  they 
also  will  not  tell. 


CHAPTER   LV. 

THE   RED   MAIDEN. 

THE  great  day  which  we  had  been  expecting  dawned,  and 
lo  !  it  was  even  as  any  other  day.  The  air  was  shrewdly 
cold  when  I  awoke  very  early  in  the  morning,  just  as  I  had 
awaked  from  sleep  every  morning  since  I  can  remember. 
It  was  my  custom  to  begin  to  say  the  little  prayer  which  my 
mother  had  taught  me  before  I  was  fairly  awake.  This  I 
did  when  I  was  but  a  boy,  for  the  economising  of  time  ;  and 
I  continued  the  practice  when  I  put  away  most  other  child- 
ish things.  I  declare  solemnly  that  I  was  past  the  middle 
of  the  prayer,  before  the  thought  came  to  me  that  this  was 
the  morn  of  the  day  on  which  I  was  to  die.  Even  then,  by 
God's  extreme  mercy,  fear  did  not  take  me  utterly  by  the 
throat. 

I  had  dreamed  of  the  day  often,  and  shivered  to  think  of 
that  awaking.  But  now  that  it  was  here,  it  seemed  to  me 
like  any  morn  in  the  years,  when  I  used  to  awake  in  the 
little  sunlit  tourelle  at  Earlstoun  to  the  noise  of  the  singing 
of  birds,  and  turn  my  thoughts  upon  riding  to  the  Duchrae 
by  the  Grenoch  side  to  see  Maisie  Lennox  —  little  Maisie 
May,  whom  now  I  should  see  no  more. 

So  by  the  strengthening  mercy  of  God  I  was  enabled  to 
finish  my  mother's  prayer  with  some  composure.  And  also 
to  remember  her  and  Maisie,  commending  them  both  to  the 
gracious  care  of  One  who  is  able  to  keep. 

Then  came  the  Chancellor's  Commissioner  to  tell  us  that 
by  the  high  favour  of  his  master,  we  were  to  be  headed  in 

360 


THE  RED    MAIDEN.  361 

the  early  morn.  And  that,  too,  in  the  company  of  the  great 
Earl  of  Cantyre,  who,  after  lying  long  in  prison,  was  that  day, 
for  rebellion  in  the  Highlands  and  the  Isles,  condemned  to 
lose  his  head.  No  higher  favour  could  be  granted,  though 
it  seemed  not  so  much  to  me  as  doubtless  to  some,  that  I 
should  lay  my  head  beside  an  EarPs  on  the  block  of  the 
Maiden,  instead  of  setting  my  neck  in  a  rope  at  the  hands 
of  the  common  executioner  in  the  Grassmarket. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  that  all  Scotland,  and  especially  all 
the  clan  Gordon,  would  think  differently  of  the  matter  —  ay, 
even  my  mother.  And  to  Wat  such  a  death  would  seem 
almost  like  an  accolade. 

They  read  me  my  warrant  in  my  death  dungeon  by  the 
light  of  a  dim  rushlight.  But  that  of  Anton  Lennox  they 
read  not,  for  a  reason  that  has  already  appeared,  though 
they  told  us  not  of  it  at  the  time.  Yet  because  the  messen- 
ger was  expected  to  arrive  every  moment  with  it,  Anton,  who 
shared  my  favour  of  execution,  was  to  accompany  us  to  the 
scaffold. 

When  they  ushered  us  forth  it  was  yet  starlight,  but  the  day 
was  coming  over  the  Forth.  And  the  hum  and  confused 
noise  of  rustling  and  speech  told  us  of  the  presence  of  a 
great  multitude  of  people  about  us.  They  had  indeed  come 
from  far,  even  from  the  wild  Highlands,  for  such  a  heading 
had  not  been  known  for  years.  Our  keepers  gave  us  a  good 
room,  and  an  excellent  breakfast  was  ready  for  us  in  a  house 
contiguous  to  the  scaffold.  When  we  came  in,  the  Earl  was 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  the  gentlemen  of  his  name 
about  him,  Anton  and  I  standing  apart  by  ourselves.  Then 
the  Dean  of  Edinburgh,  Mr.  Annand,  came  and  asked  us  to 
be  seated.  Anton  would  not,  but  went  to  the  window  and 
stood  commending  himself  to  the  God  in  whose  presence 
he  was  so  soon  to  appear.  However,  since  it  seemed  to 
be  expected  of  a  gentleman  to  command  his  spirit  before 


362  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

death,  for  the  honour  of  his  party  and  cause,  I  sat  me  down 
with  the  others,  and  ate  more  heartily  than  I  could  have 
expected,  though  the  viands  tasted  strange,  dry,  and  savour- 
less. They  gave  us  also  wine  to  wash  them  down  withal, 
which  went  not  amiss. 

When  they  saw  that  it  was  growing  lighter,  they  put  out 
the  candles,  and  we  were  brought  down  the  stairs.  When  I 
came  to  the  outside  and  heard  the  murmur  of  the  crowd, 
suddenly  and  strangely  I  seemed  to  be  breathing,  not  sweet 
morning  air,  but  water  chilled  with  ice.  And  I  had  to 
breathe  many  breaths  for  one.  There  seemed  no  suste- 
nance in  them. 

Now  Cantyre,  being  a  very  great  man,  was  allowed  his 
chief  friends  to  be  with  him.  Eight  of  them  attended  him 
in  full  mourning  to  the  scaffold,  chiefly  Montgomeries  of 
Skelmorly  and  Campbells  of  Skepnish  and  Dunstaffnage  — 
all  noble  and  well-set  men.  And  Anton  Lennox  and  I  were 
permitted  to  walk  with  him  without  any  disgrace,  but  with 
our  hats  on  our  heads  and  in  our  own  best  attire,  which  the 
Chancellor  had  allowed  to  be  provided  for  us.  At  least  so 
it  was  with  me.  For  Anton  Lennox  would  have  none  of 
these  gauds,  but  was  in  an  ordinary  blue  bonnet  and  hodden 
grey.  But  for  me,  though  I  was  to  die  for  the  faith,  I  saw 
no  reason  why  I  should  not  die  like  a  gentleman. 

As  we  went  by  the  way,  the  people  hushed  themselves  as 
we  came,  and  many  of  them  sank  on  their  knees  to  give  us 
a  parting  prayer  to  speed  us  on  our  far  journey.  The  Dean 
and  other  Divinity  men  of  the  ruling  party  approached,  to 
give  us  what  ghostly  counsel  they  could.  But,  as  I  expected, 
Anton  would  have  none  of  the  Dean  or  indeed  of  any  other 
of  them.  But  I  was  not  averse  to  speak  with  him,  at  least 
as  far  as  the  natural  agitation  of  my  spirits  would  permit. 

As  for  prayers,  I  leant  on  none  of  them,  except  my 
mother's,  which  I  had  repeated  that  morning.  But  I  kept 


THE  RED  MAIDEN.  363 

saying  over  and  over  to  myself  the  Scots  version  of  the 
twenty-third  Psalm,  "  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,"  and  from 
it  gat  wondrous  comfort. 

The  Dean  asked  me  if  I  had  my  "testimony"  ready 
written.  I  told  him  that  testimonies  were  not  for  me. 

"  What,"  he  said,  "  do  you  not  hold  the  covenants? " 

"  I  held  a  sword  for  them  so  long  as  I  could.  Now,  when 
I  cannot,  I  can  at  least  hold  my  tongue  !  " 

Even  with  the  scaffold  looming  out  down  the  vennel,  it 
pleased  me  to  say  this  to  him,  for  such  is  the  vanity  of 
Galloway,  and  especially  of  a  Galloway  Gordon.  Besides, 
I  had  once  played  with  the  Dean  at  golf  upon  Leith  Links, 
and  he  had  beaten  me  foully.  Not  twice  would  he  outface 
me,  even  though  it  were  my  death  day. 

Mr.  Annand  was  a  very  pleasant-spoken  man,  and  I  think 
a  little  grateful  that  I  should  speak  complacently  to  him. 
For  he  was  abashed  that  Cantyre  would  have  nothing  to  say 
to  him  —  no,  nor  for  that  matter,  Anton  Lennox  either. 

He  asked  me  what  affair  had  brought  me  there,  which 
vexed  me,  for  I  had  supposed  the  whole  city  ringing  with 
my  braving  of  the  Council,  and  the  Chancellor's  shaking 
hands  with  me. 

"  I  have  done  God's  will,"  I  made  him  answer,  "  at  least 
as  I  saw  it,  in  fighting  against  Charles  Stuart,  for  his  usage 
of  my  country  and  my  house.  Were  I  to  escape,  I  should 
but  do  the  same  thing  again.  It  is  his  day,  and  Charles 
Stuart  has  me  on  the  edge  of  the  iron.  But  not  so  long 
ago  it  was  his  father's  turn,  and  so,  in  due  time,  it  may 
be  his." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  said  the  Dean  piously,  thinking  no  doubt, 
poor  man,  that  if  the  King  went  that  way,  certain  others 
might  also. 

"God  send  him  as  honourable  a  death.  'Twere  better 
than  lolling  with  madams  on  Whitehall  couches,  that  he 


364  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

should  honourably  step  forth  from  the  window  of  the  ban- 
queting hall  as  his  father  did  ! "  I  made  him  answer. 

"  You  are  a  strange  Whig,  Mr.  William  Gordon,"  he  said ; 
"  do  you  even  give  that  testimony  to  them  from  the  scaffold. 
It  will  be  a  change  from  their  general  tenor." 

I  said,  "  You  mistake  me.  I  believe  as  much  and  as  well 
as  any  of  them,  and  I  am  about  to  die  for  it,  but  testimonies 
are  not  in  my  way.  Besides,  somewhere  my  mother  is  pray- 
ing for  me." 

"I  would  the  King  could  have  spared  you,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  need  of  some  like  you  in  this  town  of  Edinburgh." 

"  When  I  was  in  Edinburgh,"  I  replied,  "  I  had  not  the 
spirit  of  a  pooked  hen,  but  holding  the  banner  at  Sanquhar 
hath  wondrously  brisked  me." 

All  this  while  I  could  see  the  lips  of  Anton  Lennox  moving. 
And  I  knew  right  well  that  if  I  had  little  to  say  at  the  last 
bitter  pinch,  he  would  deliver  his  soul  for  the  two  of  us  — 
ay,  and  for  the  Earl,  too,  if  he  were  permitted. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
Maiden,  which  was  set  high  on  a  platform  of  black  wood. 
There  was  much  scaffolding,  and  also  a  tall  ladder  leading 
thereto.  But  what  took  and  held  my  eye,  was  the  evil  leaden 
glitter  of  the  broad  knife,  which  would  presently  shear  away 
my  life. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  MAID   ON  THE   WHITE   HORSE. 

THEN  slowly  a  rim  about  my  neck  grew  icy  cold  till  it 
ached  with  the  pain  —  as  when,  on  a  hot  day,  one  holds 
one's  wrists  over-long  in  a  running  stream.  Nevertheless, 
my  southland  pride  and  the  grace  of  God  kept  me  from 
vulgarly  showing  my  fear. 

Yet  even  the  Earl,  who  came  of  a  family  that  ought  by 
this  time  to  have  grown  accustomed  to  losing  their  heads, 
was  shaken  somewhat  by  the  sight  of  the  Maiden.  And, 
indeed,  such  present  and  visible  death  will  daunton  the  most 
resolute  courage.  Therefore  he  caused  bind  the  napkin 
upon  his  face,  ere  he  approached  nearer,  and  so  was  led 
upon  the  scaffold  first.  I  went  next,  schooling  myself  to  go 
firmly  and  saying  only,  "  It  will  soon  be  over  !  It  will  soon 
be  over ! "  Then  I  would  fall  to  my  twenty- third  Psalm 
again,  and  specially  to  the  verse  about  "  death's  dark  vale," 
which  did  indeed  strengthen  me  so  that  I  feared  none  ill, 
or  at  least  not  so  very  much.  But  at  such  times  one  goes 
on,  winning  through  unshamed,  more  by  the  mechanical 
action  of  one's  body  and  the  instinct  of  silence,  than  by  the 
actual  thing  which  men  call  courage. 

But  when  at  last  we  stood  upon  the  scaffold,  and  looked 
about  us  at  the  great  concourse  of  people,  all  silent  and  all 
waiting  to  see  us  die,  more  than  everything  else  I  wished 
that  they  had  thought  to  put  a  rail  about  the  edge.  For 
the  platform  being  so  high,  and  the  time  so  early  in  morn- 
ing, I  walked  a  little  as  though  my  legs  had  been  the  legs 

365 


366  THE  MEN  OF  THE   MOSS-HAGS. 

of  another  and  not  mine  own.  But  in  time  this  also  passed 
off. 

Then  they  read  Cantyre's  warrant,  and  asked  him  if  he 
had  aught  to  say.  He  had  a  long  paper  prepared,  which, 
standing  between  his  two  friends,  who  held  him  by  either 
arm,  he  gave  to  the  Dean.  And  very  courteously  he  bade 
us  who  were  to  die  with  him  farewell,  and  also  those  that 
were  with  him.  He  was  a  most  gallant  gentleman,  though 
a  Highlandman.  They  made  us  stand  with  our  backs  to 
the  Maiden,  and  rolled  the  drums,  while  they  set  him  in  his 
place.  But  for  all  that  I  heard  louder  than  thunder  the 
horrible  crunch  as  of  one  that  shaws  frosty  cabbages  with  a 
blunt  knife.  Methought  I  had  fainted  away,  when  I  heard 
the  answering  splash,  and  the  loud  universal  "  Ah  ! "  which 
swept  across  the  multitudes  of  people. 

Yet  as  they  turned  me  about,  because  my  time  had  come, 
I  saw  quite  clearly  beneath  me  the  populace  fighting  fiercely 
one  with  another  beneath  the  scaffold,  for  the  blood  that 
drippled  through  the  boards,  dipping  their  kerchiefs  and 
other  linen  fabrics  in  it  for  keepsakes.  Also  I  perceived  the 
collapsed  body,  most  like  a  sack  that  falls  sideways;  and 
the  tall  masked  headsman  holding  up  the  poor  dripping 
head.  For  the  napkin  had  fallen  away  from  the  staring 
eyne,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  rasping  echo  of  his  words. 

"  This  is  the  head  of  a  traitor  ! "  he  cried,  as  the  custom  is. 

Again  the  people  cried,  "Ah  !  "  —  They  cried  it  through 
their  clenched  teeth.  But  it  was  more  like  a  wild  beast's 
growl  than  a  human  cry. 

Then  I  was  bidden  speak  if  I  had  aught  to  say  before  I 
died. 

So  I  took  off  my  hat,  and  though  for  a  moment  I  stood 
without  strength,  suddenly  my  voice  was  given  back  to  me, 
and  that  with  such  surprising  power  that  I  never  knew  that 
I  had  so  great  an  utterance. 


THE   MAID   ON  THE  WHITE   HORSE.  367 

"I  die  (so  they  recorded  my  words)  in  the  faith  my 
father  taught  me,  and  for  which  my  father  died ;  neither  for 
King  nor  bishop  will  I  change  it.  Neither  for  love  nor  lands 
will  I  recreant  or  swear  falsely.  I  am  a  Gordon  of  Earlstoun. 
I  die  for  the  freedom  of  this  land.  God  do  so  to  me  and 
more  also,  if  ever  I  gave  my  back  to  a  foe,  or  my  shoulder 
to  a  friend  all  the  days  of  my  life  !  That  is  all  my  testi- 
mony. God  have  mercy  on  my  sinful  soul,  for  Christ's  sake. 
Amen  ! " 

"  Lord,  that  is  no  Whig  word  ! "  cried  one  from  the  crowd 
—  a  soldier,  as  I  think. 

"  'Tis  a  pity  he  is  a  rebel,"  said  another.  I  heard  them 
as  though  they  had  spoken  of  another,  and  not  of  myself. 
And  all  the  time  I  had  been  speaking,  I  was  watching  the 
headsman  wiping  his  broad  sliding  blade  with  a  fragment  of 
fine  old  linen,  daintily  as  one  may  caress  a  sweetheart  or 
other  beloved  possession. 

Then  the  Dean  began  the  praying,  for  because  I  had 
played  with  him  upon  the  Links  of  Leith  at  our  diversion,  I 
could  not  reject  his  ministrations.  And  also,  as  I  said,  he 
was  a  pleasant,  well-spoken  man.  But  he  had  hardly  said 
many  words,  or  indeed  gotten  fairly  into  the  matter  of  his 
prayer  —  which  being  an  Episcopalian,  it  took  him  a  long 
time  to  do  —  when  his  voice  seemed  to  be  drowned  in  the 
surging  murmur  which  rose  from  the  people  far  down  the 
spaces  of  the  Grassmarket.  The  sound  we  heard  was  as 
that  of  a  mighty  multitude  crying  aloud  ;  but  whether  for  joy 
or  hate,  I  could  not  tell.  The  Dean  went  on  praying  with 
his  book  open.  But  none,  I  think,  minded  him,  or  indeed 
could  have  heard  him  if  they  had.  For  every  eye  in  all  that 
mighty  throng  was  turned  to  the  distance,  whence  came  the 
cheering  of  the  myriad  throats. 

The  soldiers  looked  one  to  the  other,  and  the  officers 
drew  together  and  conferred.  They  thought,  doubtless, 


368  THE  MEN  OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

that  it  was  the  messenger  of  death  with  the  other  warrant 
of  execution,  that  for  Anton  Lennox.  Yet  they  marvelled 
why  in  that  case  the  people  shouted. 

The  commander  bade  the  drums  beat,  for  the  voices  of 
those  about  the  scaffold-foot  began  to  take  up  the  shouting, 
and  he  feared  a  tumult.  So  the  kettle  drums  brayed  out 
their  angry  waspish  whirr,  and  the  great  basses  boomed  dull 
and  hollow  over  all. 

But  in  spite  of  all,  the  crying  of  the  whole  people  waxed 
louder  and  louder,  and  the  rejoicing  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
so  that  they  could  in  no  wise  drown  it  with  all  their  instru- 
ments of  music. 

Then,  in  the  narrow  Gut  of  the  West  Port  I  saw  a  white 
horse  and  a  rider  upon  it,  driving  fiercely  through  the  black 
press  of  the  throng.  And  ever  the  people  tossed  their  bon- 
nets in  the  air,  flecking  the  red  sunrise  with  them.  And  the 
crowd  fell  back  before  the  rider  as  the  foam  surges  from  the 
prow  of  a  swift  boat  on  Solway  tide. 

And  lo  !  among  the  shouting  throng  I  looked  and  saw,  and 
knew.  It  was  my  own  lass  that  rode  and  came  to  save  me, 
even  while  the  headsman  was  wiping  the  crimson  from  the 
bloody  shearing  knife  to  make  it  ready  for  me.  In  either 
hand  she  waved  a  parchment  of  pardon,  and  the  people 
shouted  :  "  A  pardon  !  a  pardon  !  God  save  the  King  !  " 

Without  rein  she  rode,  and  the  people  opened  a  lane  for 
her  weary  horse.  Very  pale  was  her  face,  the  sweetest  that 
ever  the  sun  shone  on.  Very  weary  were  the  lids  of  her 
eyes,  that  were  the  truest  and  the  bravest  which  ever  God 
gave  to  woman.  But  when  they  were  lifted  up  to  look  at 
me  on  the  scaffold  of  death,  I  saw  that  through  the  anxiety, 
which  drew  dark  rings  about  them,  they  were  joyful  with  a 
great  joy ! 

And  this  is  what  my  Maisie  Lennox  did  for  me. 


FOLLOWETH 
The  conclusion  of  the  author  to  the  reader. 

Bur  our  perils  were  not  yet  wholly  over.  We  were  in  fear 
that  at  any  hour  the  messenger  might  arrive,  having  gotten 
another  horse,  even  in  that  lonely  place  where  Maisie  left 
him.  But  having  pardons  in  the  King's  hand,  our  foes 
themselves  were  eager  to  be  rid  of  us.  They  knew  that 
Roger  McGhie  had  been  busy  on  our  behalfs,  so  that  the 
Council  showed  no  surprise  that  he  had  prevailed,  knowing 
how  great  he  was  with  John  Graham,  and  also  with  the  Duke 
of  York.  But  they  ordered  us  all,  Maisie  Lennox,  her 
father,  and  I,  forth  of  the  kingdom  upon  the  instant.  So 
within  an  hour  we  went,  right  well  content,  along  with  the 
officers  on  board  a  ship  at  Leith,  that  waited  with  anchor 
weighed  and  sails  backed  in  the  Roads  for  the  Council's 
permit  to  proceed.  Which  being  obtained  by  the  same 
boat  that  brought  us,  they  drew  away  with  us  on  board  upon 
the  instant.  And  it  was  as  well,  for,  as  our  friends  afterwards 
advised  us,  the  plundered  messenger  came  in  during  the 
night ;  and  with  the  earliest  break  of  morn  there  was  a  swift 
vessel  on  our  track.  But  by  that  time  we  were  well-nigh 
half  over,  with  a  good  ship  and  a  following  wind.  So  that 
there  was  no  vessel  in  Scotland  that  could  catch  us. 

In  due  time  we  landed  at  Rotterdam  with  great  joy  and 
rejoicing.  Now,  there  remains  many  a  story  that  I  might 
tell  concerning  our  life  there  —  how  I  took  service  in  the 
Scots  regiments  of  the  Prince,  how  poor  we  were  and  how 
happy.  Indeed,  if  I  be  spared  and  keep  my  wits,  I  may 
2B  369 


370  THE  MEN   OF  THE  MOSS-HAGS. 

write  it  one  day.  For,  to  my  thinking,  it  is  a  good  tale,  and 
infinitely  more  mirthful  than  this  of  the  killing  time,  which 
presently  it  has  been  my  lot  to  tell,  though  Sandy  had  no 
part  in  it,  seeing  that  he  abode  until  the  coming  of  the 
Prince  in  the  stony  castle  of  Blackness,  yet  not  greatly  ill- 
done  to,  being  tended  there  by  his  wife. 

Also  in  it  there  should  be  commemorated  how  my  mother 
came  to  us,  and  concerning  Wat  and  Kate,  and  all  that  sped 
between  them.  Also,  for  a  greater  theme,  how  we  went 
back  and  helped  Renwick  and  Cleland  to  raise  again  the 
Seven  Thousand,  and  how  we  stood  in  the  breach  when  the 
Stuarts  were  swept  away.  Especially  I  would  joy  to  tell  of 
the  glorious  Leaguer  of  Dunkeld.  That  were  a  tale  to 
attempt,  indeed,  with  Maisie  Lennox  at  that  tale's  ending, 
even  as  she  has  been  the  beginning  and  middle  and  end  of 
this.  Only  by  that  time  she  was  no  more  Maisie  Lennox. 

Concluded  in  my  study  at  A/ton,  December  2,  1702. 

W.  G. 


FINIS. 


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color  and  a  delightful  love-story.  The  scene  of  the  story  is 
Wallaria,  one  of  those  mythical  kingdoms  in  Southern  Europe. 
Maritza  is  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne,  but  is  kept  away  from 
her  own  country.  The  hero  is  a  young  Englishman  of  noble 
family.  It  is  a  pleasing  book  of  fiction.  Large  12  mo.  size. 
Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  White  coated  wrapper,  with 
Harrison  Fisher  portrait  in  colors.  Price  75  cents,  postpaid. 

Books  by  George  Barr  McCutcheon 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS 

Mr.  Montgomery  Brewster  is  required  to  spend  a  million 
dollars  in  one  year  in  order  to  inherit  seven  millions.  He  must 
be  absolutely  penniless  at  that  time,  and  yet  have  spent  the 
million  in  a  way  that  will  commend  him  as  fit  to  inherit  the 
larger  sum.  How  he  does  it  forms  the  basis  for  one  of  the 
most  crisp  and  breezy  romances  of  recent  years. 

CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 

The  story  revolves  around  the  abduction  of  a  young  Ameri- 
can woman  and  the  adventures  created  through  her  rescue. 
The  title  is  taken  from  the  name  of  an  old  castle  on  the  Con- 
tinent, the  scene  of  her  imprisonment. 

GRAUSTARK:  A  Story  of  a  Love  Behind  a  Throne. 

This  work  has  been  and  is  to -day  one  of  the  most  popular 
works  of  fiction  of  this  decade.  The  meeting  of  the  Princess 
of  Graustark  with  the  hero,  while  travelling  incognito  in  this 
country,  his  efforts  to  find  her,  his  success,  the  defeat  of  con- 
spiracies to  dethrone  her,  and  their  happy  marriage,  provide 
entertainment  which  every  type  of  reader  will  enjoy. 

THE  SHERRODS.  With  illustrations  by  C.  D.Williams 
A  novel  quite  unlike  Mr.  McCutcheon's  previous  works  in 
the  field  of  romantic  fiction  and  yet  possessing  the  charm  in- 
separable from  anything  he  writes.  The  scene  is  laid  in  In- 
diana and  the  theme  is  best  described  in  the  words,  "  Whom 
God  hath  joined,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Each  volume  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  Large  lamo.  size. 
Price  75  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

GEOSSET    &    DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS 
52  DUANE  STREET  ::  MEW  YORK 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


AUQ     3    1934 

MAY    19  1936 

'•>?_&* 

DE 

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MAR  1  7  1956  L« 

|\/|/\Y  2  «  1995 

DEC  4.8^85 

..-rirMs.1  n^FT 

CIRCULATION  u 

,  «        «? 

; 

LD  21-100m-7,'33 

U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


/    247960 

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